To live again
by CelticLady
Summary: His heart was broken by the woman he thought was perfect. Her life was destroyed by a handsome man 'in the name of love'. Together they must both learn... To Live Again.
1. Shadows of the past

To live again

Disclaimer- I don't own the Phantom. Or the books, movies, or shows.

* * *

The Paris Opera House had just concluded its last show before the holidays. It had been a complete success, and with out the looming fear of the Opera Ghost, whose body had been found several months prior, the cast was cheerful and happy as they packed up and changed. A young nobleman escorted a petite woman with curly black hair backstage. Dancers and singers alike waved and called friendly greetings to the handsome young man, who returned them with a good-natured grin. One young woman gave a happy cry when she saw him, and ran to throw her arms around him, red hair flying behind her.

"Dom! Dom, you came!" She cried.

"Of course I did, Colette." He reassured, hugging her back. "Darling, I'd like you to meet my little sister, Joelle."

The dark haired young woman gave Colette a shy smile, pale blue eyes gleaming. "So you are the woman my brother means to marry." She said softly, "I've heard so much about you, Colette, and you were absolutely amazing out there."

Colette hugged the younger woman enthusiastically, "Oh, thank you so much! Dom's told me so many good things about you! I hear you're quite a singer yourself, why haven't you ever auditioned? We could sing together!"

"It wasn't safe for her to be in the public eye." Dom explained. "She's been hidden away in a convent in Ireland for six years since Mother was murdered. There was suspicion that the man who killed her was trying to get Joelle."

"Oh!" Colette's green eyes widened, "How terrible!"

"It's ok." Joelle murmured, "I've always been nervous around crowds anyway. I don't like to much attention."

"Are you back to stay now?" Colette asked.

"Hopefully. Our mother's murderer has been missing for a long time now, and Father thinks it's safe to return. I am into my twentieth year now, anyway, so he wants to find me a husband over the holidays." There was a resigned tone to her voice, "He's so determined to find someone who can protect me."

"I would so love it if we could be friends." Colette chirped.

"That would be nice." Joelle smiled, "I'm glad the big lug finally found someone. He is, after all, approaching thirty, but love can neither be forced or rushed."

"I'm glad that _someone_ else in this family understands that." Dom remarked sullenly, "Father means well, but I could never have loved any of those vapid court twits he was always tossing at me!"

"So much the better for me!" His fiancée replied.

"If you choose to see it that way." Joelle joked. "You've only seen the pretty things."

"You wound me, Joelle." Dom cried in a mock-hurt tone.

"Oh! We really must have a girls night sometime before the wedding!" Colette exclaimed.

"Just don't tell her too many horrid tales about me, sis." Dom insisted.

"Who, me?" Joelle asked innocently. Then, with a furtive glance, "I make no promises!"

Both women laughed.

"I just know I'm going to regret introducing the two of you." He remarked.

Two sets of eyes watched as the three young adults left, arm in arm. One pair was the sad, wistful eyes of a casual observer; the other pair was dark with insanity and possessive lust.

The second man grinned wickedly, "It's been years, but you can never hide from me, my dove. You will be mine, I swore it."

The first man regarded him with disgust as he disappeared, unseen, into the shadows.

* * *

The doors to the Opera House burst open, and Joelle was thrown roughly inside, her wrists bound behind her back. Before she could stand, a man walked over and dragged her into the stage area. Joelle's wrists were red and raw from struggling and her hair was loose and wild from the wind. She was dressed in a delicate white silk nightgown that was torn and muddied. Her kidnapper was a tall handsome man with tanned skin and a toned, muscular body. His jet-black hair was pulled neatly back from his face, revealing high cheekbones, stormy black eyes, and a regal aquiline nose.

"And now, Joelle, we will be together forever." He said confidently, "The day I first saw you I swore you would be mine, and now that day has come!"

"Eew! I was only four! You were fifteen!" She protested.

"Nonetheless, you were the loveliest creature I had ever beheld, and you've grown lovelier still. Truly, the angels must weep with envy! I was the son of the lowliest baron and you, the daughter of a duke, treated me like an equal!"

"You were a decent person then, Rojer, and Dom's best friend. Why would I not?" She looked away.

"Why do you turn from me, butterfly?" He cried.

"You killed my mother! How could you possibly think I would be ok with that, you monster?"

"Darling, your mother and I…didn't see eye to eye." He explained soothingly, running his finger down her cheek. "She wanted to keep us apart, Joelle. We couldn't have that, now could we?"

"She knew what you really were! She knew!"

"Perhaps, but if she knew, why would she keep us from our happiness? All she had to do was approve the union."

Joelle decided to ignore that one. "Why are we here?"

Rojer laughed and claimed her mouth with his own, kissing her hard.

She shrieked and tried to escape him.

He chuckled, "My little wildcat." He said fondly. "We are here, my dear, because beneath this very Opera House lies many hidden passages, one of which leads to the catacombs. We'll make our escape through there; head for the shore, where my ship awaits, and sail to Spain! Things will be like heaven there, my sweet Joelle; you'll grow to love it. I've built you a castle in Spain, my love; you'll live like a princess, with servants and jewels, and lace gowns. Your father will come to see, in time, that it's a good match, and welcome me back into your family. I have money now, Joelle! Lots of it! And you have to admit, dear, mine isn't such a bad face to wake up to, is it?"

"You're mad." Joelle spat. "You know damn well looks were never a concern for me, nor money!" She sniffed, "Money, pah! I know where you got that, too! Piracy! Your hands are stained with the blood of countless innocents! Men, women, children… Have you no remorse?"

Rojer sighed, "Ah, you'll come around." He smiled dreamily, "I haven't forgotten your voice, you know. Your song still haunts my sweetest dreams. Sing for me, songbird! Take me there again!" He kissed her exposed neck, tearing the top of her nightgown a little more to expose delicate, silvery flesh.

"Never." She hissed.

"I think you will!" He said in a singsong voice, toying with a notched dagger.

She stared at the sharp blade, horrified, "You…you wouldn't…"

He smiled ruefully, "You must learn." He whispered in her ear, "You must learn to be a good, obedient wife."

Her eyes widened, "F…fine… wh..what should I s..sing?"

He closed her eyes, trailing a finger down her throat.

She repressed a shudder as tears ran down her face.

His eyes opened slightly, regarding her dotingly, "Sing me something cheerful, my sweet. Something pretty you learned in Ireland." He kissed her temple, "Make me smile, pretty."

Joelle drew in a deep, quavering breath, "I know my love by his way of walking.

And I know my love by his way of talking

And I know my love, dressed in a suit of blue

And if my love leaves me what will I do?"

"Beautiful." He murmured, slipping his arms around her from behind, "Keep going, precious." He said, kissing along her throat.

Joelle fought back a sob.

"And if my love leaves me, what will I do?

And still she cries,

'I love him the best'

And a troubled mind sure can know no rest

And still she cries,

'Bonny boys are few

And if my love leaves me, what will I do?' "

She sniffled. Rojer was cutting open her nightgown, having grown frustrated with opening the laces with his fingers.

"Let her go, Rojer!" A voice called, full of cold hatred.

They both looked to the doorway.

"Dom!" Rojer exclaimed, "What a pleasant surprise!"

"Unhand my sister, whoreson." Dom growled, glaring.

Rojer thought a minute. "No, no, I quite like the current position. Besides, I fully intend to marry her, Dom. Don't worry about her honor. We'll be brothers then! Just like we used to play pretend when we were kids!"

Rage flashed in Dom's eyes, "You killing my mother and raping my sister is hardly a game." He said icily.

But Rojer ignored him, continuing, "And my mother's virtue is really none of your concern anyway, now is it?" Then it dawned on him what the other man had said. "Well then, I suppose you'll be joining your dear mother, old friend." Tucking his dagger away, he pulled out a large, wicked looking sabre. "En Garde." He said in a rather bored tone.

Dom sighed, unsheathing his own sword, "I never dreamed it would come down to this, Rojer. I never wanted to have to kill you." He said sadly, "What on god's green earth changed you so?"

"'Twas only the love of your sweet sister." He replied, toying with Joelle's hair. "Such a pretty thing, with such lovely hair…" He tossed her to the side. "Now be patient, my dove, while I remove yet another obstacle on our path to wedded bliss." He looked over at her, "Then I'll come and claim my prize…you."

Joelle ignored him, "Don't fight for me, Dom!" She screamed, "I'm not worth it! Go back to Colette! She needs you!"

Dom shook his head, "No. This has gone on long enough! He's tormented you for too long! You're my sister, I am _not_ just going to leave you at the mercy of that _monster_! Father would die if he lost you too! No. This ends NOW!" He charged at Rojer, sword drawn.

Rojer blocked it easily.

"You can't win, you know, Dom. We trained together, remember? I know your strengths, I know your weaknesses; all of your moves! And let's be honest, you can only lose in this fight, while I only stand to gain! The odds are against you."

* * *

From the shadows, another man watched.

He had come upon first man and the woman earlier. Hearing a woman singing an unfamiliar tune with such obvious talent, he had grown curious, and went to investigate. When he had arrived, he found a tall, handsome man holding onto a terrified, familiar woman in a tattered nightgown, which he was cutting off her. He remembered the woman from earlier that night, laughing with her brother and his lover. Her name was Joelle Etienne. She was crying now, light blue eyes raining tears down her pale, smooth cheeks.

Before he could do anything, her brother, Dom Etienne arrived. The other man's name was Rojer, and apparently, the three had a bad history. Rojer was consumed by an obsessive love for pretty Joelle, sentiments that she did not return.

He had no sympathy for Rojer, even in light of his own past: The man was handsome enough to have any woman he chose, in spite of his meager inheritance. The man had looks, youth, strength, and a title of nobility; all the silly little things which women were wild for. Yet, instead, he chose to tear apart the life of a nice, fragile young woman whom he'd grown up with rather than simply trying to woo her. And for all his claims of passionate love for the girl, his advances were horribly rough and brutal, for which he could not, under any circumstances, be forgiven. And Rojer had killed the child's mother and planned to kill her brother right before her eyes.

A sudden horrible thought struck him.

As monstrous as this man looked to him, how horrid had he looked to others?

…to Christine?

Perhaps he had not become an honorless pirate, perhaps he had not murdered _countless_ innocents (he firmly believed that nobody he had killed had been exactly 'innocent'.), or tried to rape the woman he loved (let alone any woman; he was a virgin, much to his chagrin.), but what he had done was only steps away from those extremes.

Nearly overwhelmed by guilt, he returned his attention to the scene before him.

Poor little Joelle.

She was on her knees, hands still bound behind her back. Fear, misery, and…-guilt?- were plain on her face.

'Poor child,' he realized, she blames herself for this.'

The men, meanwhile, were too evenly matched. If one caught the upper hand at any point, it was only ever brief. Realistically, there was a great chance that they would both die.

But then Rojer's hand disappeared.

And flashed out again holding a dagger!

He stabbed Dom in the stomach and the man went down.

"_DOM_!" Joelle screamed, lunging at Rojer, kicking and screaming. Rojer fought back, finally throwing Joelle roughly off. She landed six feet away and he loomed over her menacingly, hands still red with her brother's blood.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" She shrieked, voice trembling.

"Scream all you want, Baby doll." He said sweetly. "Nobody will hear you. It's just you and me now, darling. Who did you really expect to save you anyway? That moronic Opera Ghost?" He laughed derisively, "He's been dead for half a year now, the ass! We've won! Someday you'll see that this is our day of triumph. But for now…" His eyes glittered with a primal hunger. "Now, I take my prize…you!" He reached for her.

The man in the shadows sprung into action with the Punjab Lasso. It soared in a graceful arc through the air, meeting its mark perfectly. The rope tightened around Rojer's neck and he clawed at his throat, gasping for air. The man stepped into view, holding the rope tight until Rojer dropped to the ground and ceased his struggles.

Joelle stared, big eyes wide and wary. Her face was cut, streaked with tears and blood. "W..who…?" She managed.

He gave a small, graceful bow, and a reassuring smile. "I am the Opera Ghost." He said gently.

She gave a small, slightly hysterical laugh. "Oh? How ironic! Well, you look like an angel to me, Monsieur!"

Gently, carefully, he untied her wrists, wincing, in spite of himself, at the bloody rings left behind.

When her hands were free, she ran to her brother, falling to her knees beside him. He was still breating, though it was very shallow. Carefully, she leaned over and listened to his heartbeat. That done, she was about to begin inspecting his wounds, but when she looked at her shaking hands, she was overcome by a storm of helpless tears.

The "Opera Ghost" walked over and gently touched her shoulder.

She looked up at him.

"May I?" He asked softly.

She nodded, "Of course. My hands… they won't stop trembling… If I touch him, I'll only end up doing further harm."

After a few moments inspection, he remarked. "If we remove the dagger now, he'll only start losing blood faster. We need to get him to a hospital."

Joelle nodded dumbly, trying to cover herself with the tatters of her nightgown.

Taking her hands to still them, the "Opera Ghost" laid his coat gently over her shoulders and carefully lifted Dom. "Don't go into shock just now, Joelle, dear." He urged, "Come with me. Be strong for your brother." She obeyed, closing the coat.

When they reached the hospital, the "Opera Ghost" laid Dom gently in his sister's arms. He leaned his face close to hers, to whisper in her ear. "I must go now, Joelle. Tell no one of me."

Dazed, she kissed his cheek before he backed away, "I swear it, Angel." She murmured.

* * *

Several hours later, Joelle's father and Colette arrived at the hospital. She told them everything up to when she was on the ground, with Rojer about to "claim his prize."

"He's dead now." She concluded.

"How?" Her father asked, looking at her bandaged wrists. "Who saved you, Jo?"

She sighed, "My Guardian angel, Father." She replied softly. "Please don't press me further, I gave my word, that's all I can say."

A nurse's approach saved her. "Monsieur Etienne, Madmoiselle Etienne, Madmoiselle Stéver, the young Monsieur Etienne will survive, and make a full recovery. But the doctors inform me that it would be wise for you to take the young Madmoiselle home to rest."

* * *

That night, Joelle snuggled close to her rescuers coat, wondering if she really had been saved by _the_ Opera Ghost, or merely some brave man who wished to remain anonymous?

_Perhaps they were one and the same_. She mused, before sleep claimed her.

Whoever it was, he had been quite charming, and she owed him far more than her life.

End Part One


	2. Fops and Nun Related Trauma

To Live Again 2

Disclaimer- See first chapter.

Author's Note- In deference to the beautiful spirit of Erik which I wholeheartedly believe in, my Erik is a perfect blend of our favorite Phantoms: the flawless voice of Leroux's Phantom, the beauty that no mortal being shall ever parallel (Though I believe Josh Groban could come close,(he's kind of what I hear in my head when I read the book, only more mature) and Michael Crawford, who did come very close.), Michael Crawford-Phantom's general appearance and mask, with Leroux-Phantom's golden eyes and sexy long fingers (Please don't judge me. Musician's hands on a guy are just sort of a fetish for me.). In the way of character, he's a blend of Kay-Phantom, Leroux-phantom, and Crawford Phantom.

Forget the movie. Really, completely forget it. It was terrible, though not as bad as the 'horror movie' version. The cartoon was even better than that. The one with Charles Dance was decent.

For those of you who don't know, the Phantom is forty-nine years old, and, yes, this will come up in my story.

I don't care who you picture for Raoul, as his character will be made clear. He's not a bad guy, just young, inexperienced, and hopelessly inept. I don't approve of Christine's choice, but I can work with it. I liked the chemistry between Sarah Brightman's Christine and Michael Crawford's phantom, so in terms of looks, picture her, but with blonde hair. She is, after all, Scandinavian. I know this is a long note, but it will clear a lot of things up, and I thank you for your patience.

This story is dedicated to my two best friends, Adam and Heather, who have always been very supportive. I wish you two the best of luck with your future together.

And a special thank you to LoverofBalto! You rock!

* * *

"Opera Ghost? Are you there?"

Deep in his underground home, he heard a call. A woman's voice.

Curious again, he went to it, crossing the lake.

At the entrance the cellars was the woman from a month ago. Joelle. He never expected to see her again. She was dressed in a simple, well-made sapphire blue dress with a high, button up neck. Her thick black hair was pulled into a thick braid that hung down her back. She smiled when she saw him, and her entire face lit up.

"Monsieur Opera Ghost." She said warmly, "I was afraid I'd never see you again." Her blue eyes gleamed in the semi-darkness.

"Did you want to see me?" He asked, intrigued.

"Very much. I owe you so much. You saved me, my brother…my sanity." She said softly, "How can I possibly thank you?"

He was surprised. "I…" He sighed, "Joelle, I have much in my past to atone for. Consider what I did merely a part of my redemption. Was that all you wanted to say?"

She shook her head and handed him his coat, "Thank you for that as well. It's been cleaned, so there's no blood on it."

"Thank you for returning it."

He expected her to leave then.

He really did.

But she still stood there, looking at him. He felt rather uncomfortable and terribly self-conscious. One hand raised of its own accord, going to the mask over the right side of his face. "Am I really so hideous?" He asked, getting angry and embarrassed.

Her eyes widened, "Oh! No, of course not. Quite the opposite, in fact. I… wanted to memorize you… in case I never see you again. You aren't going to disappear on me, are you, Monsieur Ghost?"

His anger dissipated. "Oh… well, no. I'm just surprised you haven't left, though."

"I was hoping… maybe we could talk? Everyone at home is so smothering, so protective. They treat me as if I'll break or disappear. I know they mean well, and Father blames himself for my being kidnapped, but it's just too much. I just want to forget about it! But… not about you. You were my angel that night… my champion… I wanted to get to know you. I have so few friends here in France after having been gone so many years."

"We… we could talk. If you really want to." He looked back in the direction from which he had come, then held out a hand. "Do you trust me, Joelle?" He asked.

She took it without hesitation. "Always. After all, you're my Guardian Angel." She said, following him.

"I'm no angel." He murmured, leading her through the cellars. "Nor am I really a ghost. I am only a man."

"What… do you want me to call you?" she asked gently.

"My name… is Erik."

"That's a nice name."

They walked in silence until they reached the lake. Erik carefully helped her into the boat, and she smiled and called him a gentleman, which made him smile.

Soon, they were sitting in his study. He was feeling distinctly awkward, but she was smiling.

"So…" He began, "How have you been?"

"As good as can be expected, I suppose. I know it's ridiculous, but I still look over my shoulder sometimes."

"About that…" He sighed, "I should have told you this right away, Joelle, but when I returned, there was no body… Rojer was gone."

Her face paled, "P..please say you jest…"

"I wish I could. At the time, I was too worried about you and your brother to see if he was really dead or only faking."

"Oh… oh god! He's still out there!" One hand went absent-mindedly to the angry red marks on her wrists. Another thought occurred to her and horror gripped her. "Oh Erik! What if he comes after you? Rojer's a vengeful man and he must have seen you!"

"I'm alright." He assured her, touched, "I can defend myself. Besides, it's you he'll go after. I know that mindset."

"I'm sorry you had to get involved in this..." She murmured.

"I'm not. I'm glad I met you, Joelle."

"I could kiss you, Erik, I really could." She smiled at him.

"I…wouldn't stop you." He replied nervously.

So she got up and hugged him, kissing him shyly on the lips. On impulse, he wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her into his lap. She melted into his arms, snuggling close.

"I feel so safe with you." She whispered, laying her head on his shoulder. "I wish I could freeze this moment forever."

Erik was surprised at the sudden situation. He hadn't expected this to happen; his lonely soul had simply sought affection in the only form it had come.

"Do you love me, Joelle?" He asked shyly. 'I'm not ready for this. And she really isn't in the condition to make rational decisions.'

"I don't know." She admitted, "I don't really know what that kind of love feels like. But whatever this is, it's all tingly and fuzzy and warm. Like a big blanket, but inside. I kind of like it."

Unable to respond, he closed his eyes. 'She is nice.' Came an unbidden thought, 'but what will she say when she gets to know the real you?'

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you hide your face?"

"Because I must. You would not like me very much if you saw what I hide." 'Well done,' Said a nagging little voice, 'A double entente. Perhaps even a triple.'

"Someday, I hope you'll let me be the judge of that." Joelle whispered.

"You should probably go now." He replied, protective instincts screaming warnings. "Your family is probably worried about you." Bitterness crept into his voice as he said this.

Joelle quickly crawled away from him, eyes glittering with tears. "You're probably right, Monsieur."

He felt a stab of regret as he watched her walk away from the entrance to the cellars. Forcing it down, he turned around and went back. Back into his world of darkness.

"It's better this way." He muttered. "I still love Christine, and I always will. I shouldn't have encouraged her just because I was lonely."

Against his will, some part of him reminded how nice it felt to be held, wanted, loved.

"But it was a lie. She doesn't know the real me."

_And whose fault is that?_

"On what honor I have left, all I can in good conscience give her is my friendship. She's young, she's been in a convent with limitted experience with men; those feelings will fade. She'll meet someone young, brave, someone who can appreciate her."

_And I'll just stay here, alone as usual, until, one day, friendship is not enough to make her come back. Perhaps I'll tell her to leave. Perhaps it will simply be too much to bear, seeing her with a happy life, a husband, children…things I could never have._

He sighed, heading back home, anticipating a long, depressing, lonely night.

_As usual._

* * *

Two days later, a very depressed Joelle was lurking in the library, morosely paging through Plato's Republic. She didn't see the pages in front of her, but wanted to appear completely calm. 'Have I offended him? He's so different from anyone I've ever met… I have no idea how to act.'

"What's bothering you, Sis?" A voice said.

She looked up.

"You are not supposed to be up, Dom." She said, "Why are you here?"

"I got bored. Besides, I'm worried about you. First you were all misty eyed and daydreaming for weeks and then you turn all depressed since two days ago. What's going on?" He asked, settling carefully on the couch next to her.

"It's nothing."

"You've never kept secrets from me." He said sadly.

"This time I must. Suffice it to say that I was turned down by a man."

"You? Was he drunk?"

"He doesn't seem the type to ever drink. I kissed him, we were sitting together and things seemed so good, but then I asked about his past and he told me to leave."

"Ah. His loss then." Dom decided.

"Then why does it hurt so badly?" She asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Love hurts. Remember when we were younger, I was head over heels for that girl we met in the woods?"

She nodded, "Quite literally; she tossed you into a rain barrel, as I recall."

He chuckled, "We were only meant to be friends. I was too young to catch on very quickly, but once I did, things got easier to bear." He thought a minute, "Oh, and I should warn you, cousin Raoul and his new wife will be coming to visit. Father said they should be arriving today, he wanted it to be a surprise."

"Oh joy. As if this week couldn't get any worse. The man never quite grew up. Last time I saw him he was quite a… a…" She wasn't used to insulting people. The nuns had frowned upon it. Discipline in a convent was strict. "A fop." She muttered.

"You really shouldn't speak so of family." Dom scolded, "Even if it's true." He snickered, "Fop? Time was that you could have thought of something much nastier!"

"I'm out of practice. The nuns were… stern."

He laughed, "Oh, you'll bounce back. Besides, maybe if you weren't so nice to him growing up, he wouldn't follow you around!"

"Well, sometimes he's ok, but I don't have the patience to deal with him right now."

* * *

"Cousin Joelle!" Raoul pulled her into a hug, "Why, it's been so long!"

"Yes, I know." She said overly calmly.

He seemed oblivious to her annoyance, "You remember Christine, right?"

"Yes." Joelle smiled at the other woman.

"We heard about what happened, Joelle." Christine said. "I'm very sorry you had to go through that."

"It was pretty awful." Joelle's voice dropped and her smile became more forced.

"Who would have ever thought Rojer would turn out like that?" Raoul remarked, "He's gone absolutely insane!"

"He's been insane for six years." Joelle replied dryly, "Or at least, that's how long I've known it. He killed my mother, remember? Your aunt."

"Tell me, the man who rescued you," Christine began, "The one who asked you not to tell anyone about him… Was there anything unusual about him? Do you know why he would be in the Opera House after dark?"

Joelle fumbled, "Unusual? Unusual how? I don't remember anything that comes to mind! He asked me not too tell who he was because he had snuck into the Opera House on a dare. You know, they say it's haunted. He was supposed to spend the night to prove his bravery, but he didn't want to be in trouble for being where he shouldn't be."

"Oh."

"Any reason for asking?"

"Well, you know I had a very bad experience there, too." Christine murmured.


	3. History and temptation

To Live Again 3

A/N- Hello again, dear readers. Now, I'm not entirely sure of Erik's last name. But I vaguely remember reading somewhere that it's Noir, so I'll go with that.

I'll gladly accept a correction if that's incorrect.

I had a copy of Phantom, but it was stolen, so I'm working by memory with Erik's personality traits from that particular book.

Funny thing, I can memorize musical pieces after about four readings, but not books. So be nice, ok?

Moving on, in case anyone has questions as to how the Etiennes would be related to the de Chagnys, Joelle and Dom's mother and Raoul's mother were sisters.

As always, this piece is dedicated to my best friends, Heather and Adam. You guys know you rock, and I know you have a bright future in every aspect. I hope we never lose touch, because your friendship inspires me.

Enjoy.

* * *

It was an unseasonably warm night for early January, and the sound of cricket chirps filled the air. Joelle, Christine, and Raoul, (whom Joelle decided had improved considerably since the last time she had seen him) were exchanging stories. Well, rather, Joelle was asking questions about Christine and her past, and how she and Raoul had met… And about Erik, though she didn't use his name. Raoul chimed in now and then, but mostly he just sat back with a relaxed expression and loving looks at Christine, and proud, brotherly glances in the direction of his cousin.

"Tell me more about your Phantom, Christine." Joelle asked.

"Well, he's not really my anything." Christine corrected.

"Nonetheless, I still want to hear. He sounds like a fascinating man. You never did explain why he wore a mask."

"Probably due to the fact that he was hideously deformed." Raoul supplied.

Joelle's opinion of him lowered. "That's not very nice, Raoul." She chided immediately. "The poor man."

"Hey!" Her cousin protested, "That '_poor man_' was going to kill me!"

"Even so, it's bad luck to speak ill of the dead."

"You speak badly of Rojer constantly." He pointed out.

Joelle looked down, "Well, he…" She paused, taking a deep breath, "He's not dead.."

"What?" Christine and Raoul both stared at her.

"I spoke with…the police. They investigated the scene and found no body. The weapon that should have killed him was there, but he was gone. I haven't told father yet."

"Uncle Lyle isn't going to be happy." Raoul said.

Joelle shook her head, "Do you think I'm very happy with this? The man ruined my life!" She sighed, "As far as kidnappers go, Christine, you had it lucky. Rojer and E…the Opera Ghost are very different men. At least when He took you, he was gentle and tender. Rojer made me sing at knifepoint and then tried to rape me…" Joelle shuddered, "Rojer is unpredictable… violent, your Phantom never laid a rough hand on you. Sure, he scared you, but as far as kidnappers go, he wasn't so bad."

"We never did hear the whole story." Christine admitted softly, "Would you mind telling us, or is it too soon?"

"I don't believe in 'too soon'." Joelle said. "What's happened has happened, and avoiding talking about it isn't going to make it go away. Nobody seems to understand that. Everybody's just going out of their way to be so 'careful' with me as if it's going to help. Well, it's not." The raw frustration in her voice startled them. She closed her eyes, "I'm not a child any longer. I lost that passive innocence when I found my mother's dead body in our garden, slain because of me. It vexes me that I can't take him physically, but I'll find some way to fight back." Her delicate looking, slim fingered hand curled into a fist. "I have to." She stopped, looking back at them with wide, startled eyes. "Oh! I'm sorry… I seem to have drifted off on a tangent there." She shrugged, "It's the stress, you see, not that that's much of an excuse."

"That's…ok." Christine said. "I remember a time not so long ago when I just felt like exploding. I just turned it inward like a little mouse, though…" She nodded, "I only made myself more helpless. Perhaps it would help you to have someone to listen. Someone you can talk to about what just happened?"

Joelle smiled, blue eyes gleaming like the noon sky, "Thank you, Christine. I thought, once that I had someone like that, but he had…other issues."

Raoul looked surprised, "Dom?"

"No." She said, "We've talked about it occasionally, but he's been scarred by it perhaps more than I, so I try not to remind him until he's ready."

"You two seem very close." Christine remarked wistfully, "I wish I had a brother."

Joelle nodded, "We've been best friends forever. So we can pick up things that other people can't sometimes. But not quite as much lately, he's been with Colette so much more."

"So who was this other man you mentioned?" Raoul asked.

"Just a man. I scared him off by asking questions he wasn't ready to answer yet. I suppose I was a little too forward. I don't have much experience with men." She admitted.

"Some men don't like things to get too deep too early." Raoul informed her, "But I feel sorry for the guy; he turned down quite a woman. You seem to have grown up so much these past few years."

"You too." She said.

"Most of that's been done in the past few months, actually. It's been a harrowing time."

"I think I'd like to tell you two from the beginning now." Joelle said. "I'll start with before mother was killed, so that Christine can catch up on the background somewhat."

"Thank you."

"Alright, let's see… It started sixteen years ago. I was four, Dom was nine, and Rojer was fifteen, though very small for his age and with a rather beakish nose, which he took quite awhile to grow into. Apparently, he and Dom had been friends for awhile by then, and he brought him home to meet me. Dom's always included me in his life. At first, I was a little afraid because of the looks he kept giving me, but Dom trusted him and that was good enough for me, so soon he became like another brother to me. In my mind at least. He had other plans, and the hints were there, like the fact that he seemed to go out of his way to touch me, the way his eyes lingered in the most inappropriate places…" She shuddered, "The way he practically growled if any other male looked too long at me, or in a way he didn't like. I used to think he was just protective. Then, when I was fourteen, just into my development, he walked in on me when I was readying for a bath. He didn't look embarrassed, or even apologetic. He just looked…approving, as if he owned me and considered it only fitting that he saw me like that. He just kept looking at me… I started to cover myself, but he just smiled and said, "Why bother? Someday we'll be married anyway." He was twenty-five at the time, and I suddenly felt very afraid. My father was away for that month, and he walked in on me another time a few days later, and by then, I just wanted to cry. I was scared, and confused. I didn't know why he kept looking at me like that…like a wolf at a bone. The next week, he confronted me in the library…touched me in places he oughtn't have. I told him it was inappropriate, and I was relieved when he replied "I wholeheartedly agree. A man shouldn't be touching a woman who isn't his affianced or wife in that manner." Then he just smiled, "Just wait here, darling, I'm going to go talk to your mother and see if we can't rectify this terrible situation." An hour later, I was walking in the garden, checking on the flowers that mother and I loved so. I was going to look at her favorites, the white daffodils, when I saw her there, lying so still that something had to be wrong… right in the middle of the irises. I called to her, but she didn't move. Then the moon came out from behind the clouds and something was wet and slick… I ran over and turned her over… There was a knife in her heart. I knew that knife… Rojer used to show off, showing me how he could skewer an apple right off the tree with it… Mama was dead. I screamed… Dom came running… he had been in the stables, talking with Bevan, the young blacksmith journeyman who was shoeing his horse…"

Christine gasped, "Oh…! How horrible!"

"Mama had told him to stay away from me, or so I had gathered. A week after her funeral, Papa sent me away to the convent, in Ireland, where one of our aunts is a Nun. So for six years, I learned Language, philosophy, theology, history, and medicine. And music… I lived for music. I learned the flute, the violin... the bodhran...The people in the village taught me to dance! It was my escape. The first thing I had to do was learn English, so that I could communicate with anyone else but Aunt Marie. Some other young girls were there, most for schooling or protection, and I made a few friends, but for the most part, they found me to be too quiet and serious. But I had letters to look forward to, from Dom, and Papa, and some people around the house, like the Stablekeep before he died. Old Bo had been like and uncle to Dom and I; he was the one who taught us to ride as children." She went on.

"Well, in any case, I was growing up, and time didn't simply stop in my absence here. Dom went to the University… met Colette while waiting for a carriage… fell in love. Meanwhile, Rojer had gone missing. His ship was last seen in pirate waters. I knew he wasn't dead, but figured he had forgotten about me in favor of piracy." She shrugged, "So, a few months after my twentieth birthday, Papa sent for me. It was nice to be back. I loved Ireland, its people, its rich heritage, it's very spirit… But France was my home, and I missed my home, and my friends on the house staff and in the village. People I had known all my life. For the first time in years, I was home, and I loved it! A few weeks after I arrived, Dom took me to the Opera, knowing my love for music… Mama used to love the Opera…" She shook her head, as if to shake away the memory. "And Dom promised I would finally meet the woman I'd heard about from him for so long. That day started like heaven! The show was amazing, the Opera House was unquestionably exquisite, the company was great, and Colette was nice, if a bit too chirpy. Everything was finally perfect. That night, I was sitting by my window, brushing out my hair before bed, and I saw an odd shadow, but thought nothing of it. Five minutes later I was being carried out the window. I screamed and bit and clawed and hit everything –and I mean _everything_—within my reach. But his years as a pirate had made him much stronger, almost inhumanly so. He tied me up and held me still on his horse. For some reason then, he took me to the Opera House. Later he explained that he planned to use the underground passage to the catacombs to escape the city, then on to the shore and to a boat to his castle in Spain. Then he told me to sing. I told him never, and he pulled out this horrid notched dagger and said he could make me…" Her eyes widened.

"Was that the same dagger he stabbed Dom with?" Raoul asked, "Or did he have more than one?"

Joelle shrugged, "I wouldn't be greatly surprised if he did have more than one, but this was the same one, or else very similar. I doubt that, though. I memorized that dagger… I had to obey. So I sang, and he started kissing me, and cutting off my nightgown with the dagger. I knew what would happen next… I just wanted to die… Then Dom came. They fought… neither of us saw him draw the dagger until it was too late… Dom fell. Everything turned red. I lunged at Rojer, at some point, I got cut, but pretty soon he just picked me up and threw me on the ground on my back as if I was nothing. He was standing over me, covered with my brother's blood, and he said he was going to "Claim his prize." That's when it happened…"

"When what happened?" Christine breathed.

"When my Angel saved me. Oh god, he was glorious! Like some great avenging spirit from heaven! Like some god of battle ripped straight out of legend!" She sighed, "Oh… He took care of Rojer, and then untied me. His hands were so tender, so gentle… Then we looked over Dom, and he said that Dom needed to get to a hospital, and he gave me his coat to cover myself, and carried Dom for me. When we reached the hospital, he laid Dom in my arms, so gently… and he leaned over and whispered in my ear, bidding me tell no one his identity, nor describe him. I kissed his cheek before he stepped back, swearing not to. Then he swept off into the night, with the grace of a cat…" She stopped, staring dreamily into the starry night.

"I must ask again, Joelle." Raoul persisted, "Was. He. Wearing. A. Mask?"

Joelle thought carefully, choosing the right words, "Raoul… Dear cousin, I've told you this already, I did not see the Opera Ghost that night. You said yourself he was dead, remember? The one who saved me that night was a living man… and Oh! What a man he was! The only ghoul present was Rojer, and he, unfortunately, is not dead. Hopefully, at some point in the near future, that will change."

'There.' She thought, 'technically, not a lie. Erik himself told me that he was no ghost. And living indeed he was.'

"Do you have feelings for that man?" Raoul asked gently.

Joelle shrugged, "What girl doesn't dream of being rescued by her knight in shining armor? I know nothing can ever come of it, but it doesn't hurt to dream, does it?"

Raoul and Christine, caught up with dreams of their own, exchanged amorous looks.

"I don't suppose so." Christine murmured breathily.

Joelle looked away, "He had the most remarkable eyes, too…"

"Uh huh…" Raoul and Christine were too busy staring into each other's eyes.

Joelle groaned, rolling her eyes, "Aaargh! This house is entirely too full of lovers! I'm… going to leave you two alone!" She threw up her hands in frustration, stalking out muttering something about oversexed gerbils.

She decided to head to the stables.

She was enjoying the smells and sounds of the stable, arms around her favorite dependable mare, Ula, when she heard footsteps. Adrenaline rushing, she stiffened and backed up… and suddenly, she saw him: Him being singly the most incredibly handsome man she had ever seen. He was tall, with broad shoulders, mahogany hair and moss green eyes. He smiled when he saw her.

"Ah, hella lass." He said in english, with an unmistakable Scottish brogue.

Her throat went completely dry. 'oohhh...'

"I was lookin fer yeh." He said softly. "I'm Haral Slannidhe, I'm here fer the Stablemaster position, but yehr good father dinnae speak but the barest of english. 'E told me teh speak teh ye. Ye are Lady Joelle, aren't yeh?"

She nodded, scrambling for her english. "Yes…yes I am. And you're obviously from Scotland, correct?" 'damn, I've got hay in my hair!'

He nodded, "From yer own accent, I'd say ye learned teh speak english in good ol' Ireland."

"Exactly." She replied, "Now... is it just you applying?"

"No, I and me twin, Willem."

'Twins' She though, 'good god if there was ever a cause for sinful thoughts!' She cleared her mind. "Alright, then, I'll need some information for the records."

"Alrigh." He said good naturedly, "I'd be glad teh help ye, I would."

She swallowed hard,"Okay… Now… Age?"

"Twenny-six, the pair of us."

"Marital status and present family members?"

"Unmarried, and the only family with us is our ol' Fa, Aram." He responded. "Ah'm afraid Fa and Will only speak English as well."

"Not a problem. As Chatelaine, I can alsoserve as an interpreter. Well, depending on your next answer: How much experience do you have?"

"We 'ad a farm, before the fire. Half the village burned that night. There was nothing left but teh leave." His voice was sad.

"I'm sorry." She murmured. "But you do meet the requirements, if the two of you still want the jobs."

His eyes showed slight humiliation, "Weh need it."

She reached out and took his big hand in her own. "Unofficially, Haral, if you ever need anything, ask me. Everything would be much smoother if we could be friends. Makes things so much more relaxed. You and your father and brother can move into the cottage adjoining the stables. I oversaw the redecorating and updating inside myself. You'll be the first to live there since…Bo…" She said softly.

He squeezed her hand, eyes shining with gratitude. "My most sincere thanks to yeh, Lady. Yeh don' know how many turned us away."

"People in this area are somewhat suspicious of foriegners." She said sadly. "Our village is a rare exception. My father sets an example, and the people adore him, so they follow his ways." She smiles, "And call me Joelle. I'm not quite used to bein 'Lady'd yet. Not to mention I hardly fit the part, particularly at this moment and I'm rambling. Sorry!"

"Joelle, then." He kissed her hand and swept away, eyes twinkling with amusement.

She stared after him, "Maybe Dom was right about moving on…" she murmured. Then the image of Erik's deep, profound golden eyes danced in her mind. Tears filled her eyes, sinking to her knees in the hay.

"Why?" She whimpered, looking to the sky, "Why can't anything be simple? Why can't I just forget him?"

"Forget who?"

She looked up, "Oh.. Bevan… What brings you here?"

"Your father's gelding tossed a shoe. I'm here to fix it." He said.

"Oh. How are Chera and the baby?" She asked.

He beamed, plain face lighting up with pride. "Little Jolie's growing like a weed and my own darling is expecting another, in fact. I'd love a son to teach my craft, but I'd be just as happy with another lovely daughter."

"Congratulations, old friend."

"Now tell ol' Bevvie what's bothering you." He cajoled.

"Ah, well, man trouble."

"What sort?" He asked.

She sighed, "The sort where I fell in love with this tall, dark, mysterious singer who rejected me, and I simply cannot forget him. Then there's that handsome, good-natured, stable Scottish man who's definitely very charming and easy to get on with. And yet the first man's still on my mind. I feel as if I'm betraying him."

He nodded thoughtfully, "Not if he was dumb enough to reject you. If you really want this first guy, give him a warning, drop a few hints, then, if he's foolish enough to ignore that, forget the arrogant bastard. You deserve to be appreciated. Since you've returned, you've fallen right into your duties as Chatelaine. You've been good at it, too, for a beginner. You deserve someone special."

She hugged him, "Thank you so much, Bev. Where would I be without you?"

"Lost and lonely."

They laughed.

She thought a moment. "Bevan, can you keep a secret?"

"Haven't I always?"

"Well. I'm furious with Rojer, and very, very tempted to hunt him down and do horrible, painful, eventually deadly things to him with a garden trowl. Then pesky logic comes back and reminds me that I'm only five feet two inches, and he's a strong, ruthless pirate."

"Yes, I know that he is. What are you leading up to?"

"Let's just say quite a few pieces of china have gone missing…"

He laughed, "Slinging rocks again? As I recall you had a very good aim."

"….Guilty." She blushed.

"Just try not to break too many things. You remember what happened last time."

* * *

Two days later, she went to the Opera House, cursing all the way for her poor logic.

* * *

He was beginning to notice again, how lonely it was in here. Erik sighed, half wishing that odd, fey young woman would return, with her quiet charm and her big, intelligent blue eyes. It had been nice to maintain the delusion that he might actually have a friend, but plainly, he'd scared her off for good.

"I'm getting too old for this." He muttered. "Too old to keep getting my hopes up about young, pretty women, even just as friends."

Alone again, all he could do was mourn the loss of Christine and despise humanity in general. He was beginning to hate the darkness and to wish he was really as dead as everyone thought. He didn't know who the man was that they found, but the poor soul had obviously just had too much. He knew that feeling, he thought, envying the man's courage and the peace he now had in death. He looked at the mask on the shelf before him, running a hand over his disfigurement.

Yes, death would certainly be preferable to living like this, if living indeed you could call it. He didn't like to sleep, because he dreamed about Christine… And about Joelle calling him a monster… hurting him as young women had when he was a young man. He had nightmares about being in the freak show again… Joelle and Christine fainting at the sight of him, Dom shaking his head in disgust and pity, Raoul holding Christine close as if Erik were some insane beast… and Rojer's evil laughter in the background.

"Erik?" A plaintive voice called.

Putting on the mask, he looked outside.

There, on the other side of the lake, was Joelle.

For the first time since he told her to leave, a smile crept across his face.

Perhaps he was not so alone after all.

For now.

* * *

When Erik got out of the boat, the first thing she did was apologize for her prior behavior.

"It's alright." Erik said, "I shouldn't have encouraged you under false pretenses."

She smiled. Somehow, she couldn't resist the man. There was something absolutely magnetic about him.

Then she saw his face. The part not covered by the mask, anyway. The last time she had seen him, she'd thought he was a little thin, but now his face was positively gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes.

"Oh Erik…" She murmured, "Are you alright? You look awful."

"Thanks." He said sarcastically.

"Don't be that way. I'm worried about you!" She snapped.

He appeared to be examining her eyes. Under the annoyance…Concern? "You… really are, aren't you?"

"Of course! What's the matter?" She asked exasperatedly.

"Nightmares…" He gave in. "The last few days have been rougher. When I'm alone, I think about… things I wish I didn't."

She hugged him, "I'm _really_ sorry now." She replied.

"Is that why you came?" He asked bitterly. "Simple guilt?"

"I missed you." She confessed.

"I missed you."

She smiled ruefully, "But I should warn you, Erik…"

"About what?" He asked.

"My cousin's name is Raoul de Chagny." She said softly. "He's in town, with Christine, and he suspects that you are alive. He's not happy about it. I did what I could to dissuade him, and dismiss the notion that you could possibly be alive, but I don't think he was entirely convinced."

"Wh..What…?"

"Don't worry, Erik." She felt compelled to comfort him. "I stand by you. If he wants to get to you, he'll have to go through me. I know somewhat of your past now. I'm sorry I asked and I can see why you wouldn't want to talk about it, so I won't ask anymore. Just tell me when you're ready."

"Thank you."

"Hey, I don't like it when people pry too much into things I don't want to talk about. It's only fair I give you some time."

"I can't believe you're related to that ass." He remarked.

"Dom thinks he's a changeling. And possibly a gelding."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your brother seems to be an interesting man."

She rolled her eyes, "You have no idea."

Laughing, she followed him into the boat, and, back at his house, they spent hours talking.

Neither suspected that, back at the manor, her cousin was getting worried, and had suspicions where to find Joelle.


	4. What if I just shaved it all off?

To Live Again 4

A/N- Well, hello all, I'm back again. You know where to look for the disclaimer.

I hope that the last chapter was enlightening.

This goes out to Heather and Adam… Rock on, super-bandos.

* * *

Raoul groaned in annoyance. "Where is that girl?" He muttered. Dom didn't think very highly of him as a man, and though Dom and Joelle shared many views, she seemed the more patient one. Joelle had grown up splendidly into an intelligent, spirited woman. He was so glad that she and Christine got along. Christine always seemed nervous around his family, as if she felt she didn't fit in, but Joelle seemed to put her at ease.

Joelle seemed to have her mother's patient, easy nature, while Dom seemed harder to please. For some reason, he and Raoul had never gotten along. When he had been younger, he'd wondered if anything would ever be good enough for his brave, noble elder cousin. Eventually he gave up. Joelle had never been as cold as Dom, who would joke that Raoul was another girl in the family. Joelle had called him a 'fop' now and then when she reached the end of her patience with him, but otherwise had been his favorite of the two. They were the same age, both twenty, but while he'd been rather more sheltered and indulged, she preferred a more adventurous life, and was often off with her brother and his friend, Rojer. Until she was about thirteen, that is. He couldn't figure out what had turned his fiery spirited, outgoing cousin into a shy, withdrawn little doe, starting at shadows and avoiding crowds. Finding out about Rojer's treatment of her cleared up any questions about that. Since returning from Ireland, she had changed even more, into someone that he respected, but felt the need to protect.

But this was the tenth time in as many days she had disappeared without giving him any idea where she was going. Or when she'd be back. He had spoken once to Dom, who had told him, in no uncertain terms that 'Joelle was free to go where she would.' So, finally, he decided to ask the new stablemaster, and hoped he wasn't merely walking in on a wild tumble in the hay between the burly Scotsman and Joelle.

That would make things…decidedly awkward in the future.

Luckily, no such nightmarish horror greeted his cautious eyes. 'Twas merely the two Scotsmen tending to the horses.

"Hey." He called.

One of them came over.

"What?" He spoke in english, and Raoul knew very little of that.

"Joelle." He said, struggling to find the words, "Where?"

"Paris." The man replied patiently.

"Thank you."

That was the last thing he wanted to hear. What would she be doing in the city when there was a deranged man after her? The answer hit him abruptly. When they had spoken of the phantom, more than once, Joelle had stuttered, nearly saying something that started with 'E'. He knew the name.

He'd heard it from Christine.

Erik.

Joelle had lied.

Erik was alive.

And Joelle was with him.

Nothing connected to Erik could ever be good.

He had to do something!

* * *

"Are you sure it doesn't bother you, who my cousin is?" Joelle asked as they sat together on the couch.

"My dear, that's about a hundred times you've asked that. You are your own person. The Fop is the Fop."

She giggled, "You know, recently, that was the worst insult I could use. Rather falls short of my usual barrage."

"Really?" Erik smirked.

For a moment, silence fell.

"I don't like my nose." Joelle declared. "It's long, but it's little. I think I have a weird nose."

"What?" Erik sounded confused.

"It just got a little too quiet in here. So I thought maybe a strange, random confession might break the silence."

He tilted his head, "You are an odd girl."

"So?" she asked, "Sure is better than being boring."

"… I really can't think of a response to that."

"What's on your mind, then? You have been unusually quiet."

The mood suddenly turned solemn.

"It's just… odd thinking that Christine is so nearby…" He trailed off wistfully.

Pain and jealousy stung Joelle inside. She doubted that Erik would ever see her as the woman that loved him. He would only ever see Christine, and so he was destined to suffer.

But then, so was she, loving him beyond all hope as she did.

She sighed. "Did I tell you about the new Stablemaster at the manor?" she asked.

"I believe you said his name was Haral." He replied, "Why?"

"He's a good man, charming and handsome. We've been speaking a lot, mostly at night. His eyes are even greener in the moonlight." Joelle said softly. "I think, in time, I could grow to love him. He's certainly attractive."

"Indeed?" Erik's voice was strained.

"Oh yes. And I think he's interested in me." She answered. "He's told me a lot about his past, in Scotland. It's a fascinating place. He said he might take me there someday."

"How nice."

This was getting annoying. Why did he have to listen to her go on about some silly Scottish whelp? Erik frowned.

"I don't think the two of you would get along forever." He remarked. "After all, nice this boy may be, but you're an intelligent woman. Can he really offer any intellectual stimulation?"

"He's smart enough."

"Is enough enough? I thought you liked someone who can challenge you?"

"I have you for that, Erik. After all, you'll always be my friend, but I want to have a life someday. With a house in the country, close enough to stay in touch with my family. And children, and a husband who loves me. Someone I love who loves me back. Who doesn't want something like that? And Haral can give me that kind of life."

Ouch.

"I wonder if he's really good enough for you." He said.

"You don't need to worry about my love life, Erik." She replied briskly, "You aren't my brother, or my father. Or even an ex-lover. I think Haral could protect me from Rojer, too. He's very strong."

A groan escaped his throat. "_I_ could protect you from Rojer!" He snapped, "And I have. What are you trying to do?"

"Nothing." She said. "I _thought_ I was just confiding in a friend about someone who makes me happy."

She sounded so reasonable.

"Why aren't you happy for me, Erik?"

So honest.

"I just want to find somewhere I belong. I'm the last one in my age group in the family to get married as it is, I don't want to become a pathetic old maid."

She was always honest with him. For all her peculiarities, she was always honest.

She deserved to be happy.

She deserved to be loved.

So why did he hate hearing about it?

"Erik?" Her voice brought him out of his thoughts. He looked up. "Are you alright? You look awfully pale."

"I honestly don't know anymore." His voice sounded weary, even in his own ears.

"You still haven't been sleeping, have you?" She goaded.

"I can't."

"What if I promised to stay with you, until you woke up? In case you had a nightmare."

Joelle's voice was soothing. He saw no reason not to listen. "Alright. If you'll be here."

* * *

"I don't have much else to do today, and staying here with you awhile beats balancing household accounts." She whispered, pulling him into her arms.

He rested his head on her lap, eyes growing heavy. "D..don't touch…mask." He yawned.

"I promise."

'I've pushed him too far.' She thought, looking at Erik's sleeping face. 'I shouldn't have toyed with him. The poor man's been through enough from what I do know, and the rest of his past couldn't have been easy either. I'm an ass. I really need better people skills.'

She sighed, reaching down to take one of Erik's hands in her own.

He whimpered in his sleep.

"Shh… it's ok, Erik. It's ok."

He needed to take better care of himself. She should have told him so.

'I'll stop talking about Haral so much with him. He has enough pain without me hurting him for selfish reasons.'

Erik's hand tightened around hers, and she smiled, allowing herself a brief dream that he was hers, and she his.

"I'll never hurt you again." She promised.

A little over an hour passed, and Joelle memorized what she could see of Erik's features. Even in sleep he was so guarded, never relaxing fully.

That's not entirely true, she thought.

Sometimes when we're talking, he gets this content look on his face. Or otherwise a highly amused one. As if he knows a joke he's not telling.

I could have imagined it, though.

She was struck by how different he looked asleep.

Awake, he was so compelling, so powerful, so masterful with word and voice. But asleep, he looked older. He looked fragile, and ill.

'He needs someone to take care of him.' She though.

'He doesn't have anyone else.'

'I hope I'm good enough.'

"Joelle."

Her name, barely a whisper, came from his lips.

"Yes, sweetheart?" she asked.

"Do you think I'm a monster, too?" He muttered in his sleep.

"Never."

"Thank you." He relaxed a bit.

She wondered what dream would cause him to ask that. It tugged at her heart to think that anyone could call Erik a monster. It hurt even worse to think that he might believe it.

Suddenly, she heard a voice outside.

"The candles are lit, Raoul."

Well Damn.

Christine.

The one who had what she could never: Erik's heart.

"So I see." Came her cousin's voice. "I told you it wasn't over."

"She might not even be down here."

"She is."

Joelle took a deep breath, and leaned over, close to Erik's face.

"Erik!" She called softly.

He stirred, but didn't wake.

She poked him.

No response.

She shook his shoulder gently.

His eyes flashed open, momentarily panicked. Then he saw her and relaxed. "Eh? What is it, Jo?"

"Listen." He heard the voices too, and neither moved fast enough when Raoul and Christine suddenly entered.

* * *

Christine stared, surprised at what they had found. Joelle, indeed, was there, as was Erik. She looked surprised and annoyed. Erik lay back on Joelle, looking as if he had just awakened. His hair, usually meticulously groomed, was loose and mussed. When she looked into his eyes, she saw deep, terrible pain, regret, confusion…and fear. But none of the longing she remembered.

Raoul looked furious. "You…monster."

Erik sat up, slowly. He looked tired and sick.

Joelle moved as close to Erik as she could, a protective look on her face.

The two stood, Erik slightly slower. Looking at Joelle again, she saw the way the woman looked at Erik… Concern, affection, trust…and… God! Joelle was in love with him!

She wondered if he knew it.

Joelle took Erik's hand. "Don't you ever call him that, cousin." She reprimanded.

Raoul looked betrayed, "Joelle… why? You know what he's done! You know what he's capable of…"

"He's changed. But I believe he was always a good man." She replied.

Erik himself looked slightly doubtful. "Why are you here?" He asked, directing the question at Raoul. As if he couldn't bear to look at her.

She saw Joelle squeeze his hand, silent support in every line of her posture.

"To keep you away from Joelle." Raoul growled.

"She's a grown woman, and a good deal more intelligent than you. Let her make her own decisions." Erik said calmly.

"What, so you choose my cousin as some twisted revenge?"

"How paranoid." Erik remarked, "And what do you mean, 'choose'?"

Frustrated, Raoul turned to Joelle, "Do you honestly care for that beast?"

She glared at him. "I love this _man_ with all of my heart. Despite my efforts not to." She added as an afterthought.

Erik looked over at her, thoughtful and surprised. "What was that about Haral earlier, then?" He asked.

She looked embarrassed, "Haral is a good man, Erik. But he's only my second choice. I wanted to make you jealous. But I know your heart is lost, so I'll push you no more. I'm sorry I did that, I know it was bothering you, though I'm not sure why. I always feel so guilty when I'm with Haral and not you. Physically, he's very attractive. But in terms of a deeper relationship, I only want him. I think the problem with Haral is partially due to the fact that I haven't been around men that aren't related to me in six years."

"I don't know what you see in me." Erik murmured.

She rolled her eyes. "Modesty is always part of the appeal." She joked.

"Oh?" He asked, amused.

With a howl of rage, Raoul rushed at Erik… and ripped off his mask!

Erik gasped and covered his face with his hands, turning away from Joelle.

"Behold the misshapen creature you've given your misguided heart to!"

Something inside Joelle snapped. Her eye twitched. She stalked over to Raoul and punched him square in the face. "Not so pretty now, eh?" She yelled, snatching the mask from Raoul's hand. "I see only one monster here, and he masquerades as a man…As my cousin. Leave, Raoul. You've done enough damage for today."

Then she turned away, dismissing him. Joelle's entire demeanor changed, as she walked back to Erik.

"Honey." She whispered, "It's ok." She said, handing him his mask. "I'm looking down. I didn't see anything." Her tone changed, "That bastard. I'm getting so tired of his attitude!" She glared at her cousin.

Slowly, Erik put the mask back on. Then his hands sought Joelle's. He really didn't look well. Christine was unable to recognize this ill, defeated man as the one she had been so afraid of.

Joelle got on tiptoe and kissed Erik on the cheek. Erik was silent.

The tenderness in Joelle's eyes struck Christine to her core. Then she looked over at her husband, Raoul. He looked torn between anger, confusion, and guilt.

"Let's do as she said, Raoul." Christine decided.

He didn't move.

So she took his hand and led him like a child.

* * *

When Joelle woke up, the first thing she noticed was that she was snuggled against something soft and warm, something that smelled softly of old books and cedar wood. She opened her eyes.

Warm golden orbs met soft blue.

"Hi." She whispered.

Erik just hugged her tighter.

He looked better for a night's sleep. More like the man who was her champion. He'd seemed invincible that night. As much as his strength had drawn her in, his vulnerability was also quite appealing, showing him as a real man, not just some starstruck girl's dream. He was real.

"About yesterday… what you said… Did you mean it?" He asked finally.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I tried not to. Belieeeeeve me."

He shook his head. "I… I can't believe it…Christine… she barely even looked at me. How could I love her so much when she won't even look at me? She wouldn't even say anything. She ignored me."

"I'm sorry."

"You helped me."

"You needed me." Her response was automatic.

"I think in time I could love you as much as you deserve."

She sighed. "Could you?" She asked doubtfully, "I was prepared to simply love you, if you would allow it."

"I wish I could move on faster, but…"

"She broke your heart, I know. Just give me time to heal it. Besides, I have a lot to learn about men. Being around nuns for so long has dulled my Tomboy-insight into the male mind." She gave a hopeful smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

They were silent for a moment.

"Thank you."

"For what, Erik, dear?" She tilted her head, smile slipping somewhat. A strand of her hair, having come loose when she punched Raoul, slipped down, laying across her nose. She frowned and blew it up. The hair stood straight up and then stubbornly fell back on her face. She cursed under her breath and left it.

Erik shook his head disbelievingly and continued, "For not looking at my face. I wasn't ready for that."

"I respect your privacy." She murmured, eyeing the wayward hair with one eye. 'Always at the worst possible moment.' She thought irritatedly.

"That means a lot."

"I'll… have to go soon. Do I have your permission to explain the situation to Father and Dom?"

"If you want to."

She continued to eye the hair. "What if I just cut it all off?" She wondered aloud.

He laughed, "I wouldn't advise it. Your head would get cold."

"Oh well." She said sadly. "The eternal curse of big, unmanageable hair." She said melodramatically.

* * *

"I was wrong." Raoul said, when Joelle finally came back.

"I know." She said coolly.

"I didn't want him to hurt you."

"Erik's been too occupied with hurting himself." She snapped.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, "Could you ever forgive me?"

"Ask Erik. He's the one you owe an apology to." She turned on her heel and exited.

Things would never be the same again for the two cousins.


	5. Getting to know you

To Live Again 5

A/N- We're getting to the interesting stuff now. I hope everyone likes Joelle and Dom—OCs on their own are hard to make, but creating a whole OC world in coexistence with the canon world is about ten times harder.

I know right now nobody out there is happy with Raoul, or if you're a Raoul fan, don't lose hope, I'm not making him into a bad guy. He's only human, and his actions are very easily explained.

If anyone's wondering about the way I'm portraying the phantom, please remember that he's a broken man, but on the way to recovery.

Good stuff to come.

To Heather and Adam, may your instruments forever remain in tune, may your hearts forever remain unbroken.

As always, my faithful readers- Enjoy, and your reviews are like sunshine on my soul.

* * *

"So his name's Erik?" Dom asked when Joelle finished her story.

"Yes."

"Do you really love him?"

"I do."

Dom thought a moment, "…Is he good to you, Joelle?"

"So good."

The man nodded, satisfied. His darker blue eyes were calm as he then said, "I'd like to meet him someday. Someone should welcome him to the family, and somehow I don't think it'll be Raoul."

Joelle's face lit up. "I'll speak with him about it." Her eyes softened, "Poor Erik…He's been jumpy all morning after what happened." A sigh escaped her lips. "Raoul has apologized to me, but I can't find it in me to forgive him… Is that awful of me?"

"I can't say I blame you. He did go a bit overboard. Just try to remember that he did what he did trying to protect you from someone he didn't trust… with good reason."

"He hurt Erik." She said softly, "To me, that's unforgivable."

"Then why are you so close to Christine? She was the one who ultimately broke him."

"Erik forgives her. He regrets his actions. Besides, we understand each other. Our situations were similar, in some ways. There's a sort of kinship deeper than blood for two women who have known such fear." She shrugged, "Besides, she's new to the family and her reception hasn't been the warmest, someone needs to help her get used to things. You know how Great Aunt Beatrice is. Talking about 'family prestige' and 'marrying only those worthy', things like that."

He quirked an eyebrow, "Ah, so you mean to take her under your wing… And then worm what you can about Erik out of her."

She blushed, "Just little things… I figure he'd been wooing her for so long, someone needs to properly romance him. You know, flowers, little surprises; that sort of thing. Like little reminders that I love him, little promises that I always will. I think he needs that. Besides, I like making him happy."

Dom hugged his sister, "You really do love him." He murmured, "I'm happy for you."

She smiled, laying her head on his chest. "Thank you, Dom. I'm so glad you understand. I thought I'd never find someone…right."

"Well, someone wise once told me 'love can neither be forced or rushed'. I'm just glad I'm not the only one who's found it."

"Wow. I'm being quoted. I'm honored." She quipped.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another room in the manor, a man and woman embraced. This time, the man was in tears.

"Christine… I messed up…" Raoul sobbed.

"I know." She whispered. "You had reason to worry."

"You don't understand! Joelle was the only one who seemed to think I could ever amount to anything more than a spoiled rich brat! She talked to me, and she didn't take any attitude." He cried, "If I started to act up, she'd just go quiet and give me a look, like she expected better. And she listened, she really listened! And now I've gone and messed things up and she loves a man I despise who loathes me no less."

"Perhaps things will cool down?"

"She's nice, but she's stubborn. She insisted I apologize to _him_. I think she means to shut me out until then…"

"Then apologize. There are worse things to have to do. Explain things to Erik, be reasonable and tactful. He's not such a bad man, just very alone." Christine sighed, "And very self-conscious about his face. You hurt him, even if he doesn't like you."

"But he was with my cousin. The last time he was involved with a woman in my life… What he did to you still infuriates me!"

"Joelle seems like a strong woman… And rather quirky… The way she fought back… the way she was strong for her family when Dom was in the hospital! I don't think Erik would be able to hurt her if he tried."

Raoul nodded, "Yes, and she's always been tough, but…I can't stop remembering how two years ago, she was so delicate, frightened of suspicious shadows and sudden noise. I've been nothing but a failure protecting those I care about: First with her, back then; then with you… I couldn't keep your nightmares away; …Phillipe; …and all that failure…I just couldn't keep my frustration and anger from rising up and I took it out on the person I hated every bit as much as Rojer… Erik."

"To err is human, Raoul. You are only a man, you have weaknesses as do we all."

"I feel like I've lost my only ally."

"I'm still here."

"Never leave me." He pleaded.

"I will never." Christine assured him.

* * *

Joelle was saddling up Ula. The young mare nibbled on her bangs and she laughed. "Those aren't for eating, Ula! Besides, I have enough trouble with them as it is."

A man stepped out of the shadows. "Off teh Paris again, lass?" Haral asked.

"Yep." She nodded, trying to pull the bits of straw out of her hair.

"I'll miss yeh." He murmured longingly.

She stopped. Her eyes widened, she looked up into the green pools of his eyes. Sadly, she noted that his eyes were only little green ponds beside Erik's fathomless golden seas.

Haral took her hand, "Lass… Joelle… In a few weeks, there's gonna be a festival in the village. Would ye go as my lady?"

Joelle sighed. She'd known she'd have to straighten out this messy matter sooner or later, but had dreaded it. Her body responded, as always, to Haral's touch, heat spreading to exactly the right places, but her heart saw only Erik. She swallowed hard, fighting down the purely physical attraction. Erik was her love, someday her lover; Haral was her friend, no more.

"H..Haral, I can't." She whispered.

"Joelle…" His voice was the essence of agony.

"I'm sorry, Haral. I'm in love with someone else." She replied, hating herself for breaking the good man's heart. She wished fate were kinder. "I never meant to lead you on. All we can ever be is friends. Good friends, I hope." Gently she squeezed the hand that held hers. "Find yourself someone better. I'm just too strange for my own good. Luckily, my man is patient."

His face was full of anguish. "As…as ye wish." He breathed, voice trembling.

"Can you ever forgive me?" She asked. "This wasn't supposed to happen, but somehow it just…did."

He pulled back reluctantly. "I can… but not tonight." He said, "Let meh mourn my loss tonight…"

She looked away, unable to endure his pain. Hurriedly, she mounted her horse and rode off.

"Why do I have such trouble with men?" She wondered sadly. "Maybe I should have just stayed an the damn convent!" A curl fell in her face. "Oh sure. _Now_ you come out!" She snapped.

* * *

By the time she reached the door to Erik's house, she craved the solace of his arms, the sweet calm that swept over her when they talked.

She fought down tears. Now wasn't the time. He needed her now, he needed her to be strong. Lately it felt like everyone did, particularly when Rojer could at any moment take her away. So she crammed down the icy horror brought on by the very sound of his name, the arousal that Haral awakened, the aching disappointment at the events with her cousin, the fears and insecurities about a new relationship that was by no means certain, the worry about her beloved, and the constant longing to just stay with him and forget all of the above. If she wasn't afraid, nobody else needed to be. If she could smile and be sunny and happy, they didn't have to worry for her. Let them think she was her old happy, carefree self.

If only it didn't feel like those bottled emotions were slowly tearing her apart.

Taking a deep breath, she entered.

Erik smiled when he saw her. Sleep had done him good; he looked a lot better. She allowed herself to believe that her love had contributed as well.

"Joelle!" He greeted cheerfully, "You came back!"

She smiled, 'Jeez, moody guy, isn't he?' "Of course I did." She hoped her growing strain didn't come across in her voice.

Possibly not. He came over and wrapped his arms around her.

"What…what did your father and Dom say?"

"Papa said that he'd let Dom decide if you were good enough for me. Dom wants to meet you, but he says that if I love you and you treat me well, then he likes you already. Oh, and he sends his gratitude for your timely rescue."

Erik nodded. "Well good." He replied, "I guess I wouldn't mind meeting him, either. It would be nice to have a male friend. And he does sound interesting."

"You seem much better." She said, "It's so wonderful to see you smiling!"

"Well, I've been thinking. All things considered, I've had some very good luck in with the usual bad. Also, and this surprised me quite a bit, with you around, I've been… happy. That's a pretty big deal for me: I don't remember the last time I was really happy."

Joelle sighed, nestling her head on his shoulder, breathing in the soft scent of books and wood and something distinctly Erik. "I'm glad, luv." She whispered, borrowing a British endearment.

"I'm glad, luv."

* * *

'Luv', she had said. The simple word washed over him like whispers of a spring breeze, warm and soothing. It occurred to Erik that nobody had ever said anything like that to him. His lonely soul reveled in the small, meaningful little concept: This woman loved him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Here, in his arms, was a woman who loved him even with the possibility that he would never return his feelings. Here was a beautiful, strange, unique woman who sought him out over all the handsome men she must encounter. Here was a person who had never once made him feel anything less than completely perfect and desirable.

She smelled like daffodils and sunlight, and vibrant spirit. Her love was like a warm blanket; offered freely, with nothing asked in return—not even the reciprocation of feeling that she had every right to expect. He remembered what she'd said the previous day. _'I was prepared to simply love you, if you would allow it.'_ She'd said.

She admitted that she would be content simply to be allowed to love him, as long as he wanted her to, without needing him to love her.

She had placed everything she had in his hands.

In that moment, he could have crushed her in his palm, but still she risked it.

She could have had a young, devastatingly handsome man, but instead she chose him: Old, insecure, disfigured Erik. The Opera Ghost, the 'Living corpse', the 'Devil's Child'. The murderer. She took his cold, bloodstained hands in her soft, warm, clean ones, offering him everything she was. Knowing who she was, she still called him 'her Angel', 'Her champion'. Friend, sweetheart, honey… Man.

It was a truly humbling revelation.

In that moment, he realized that he had a second chance. A second chance that was so much better than most men's first chance. Joelle was definitely someone he could love, with a little time. Hell, he was beginning to love her already. Even seeing her with Christine, she shone like some precious jewel.

He swore, then and there, that he would never make her regret her choice.

Something was wrong, though, he realized as he held her.

She clung to him like a lifeline. He could feel the desperation in her arms, like she was seeking shelter.

Gently, he held her out at arm's length, looked deep in her eyes, searching for the hidden problem that tormented her so. With all of his power, he captured her azure eyes with his own. One thing he had learned through his nightmarish life was how to read people, well enough that they might think he read their minds. What he saw in her, was stress, nigh on to the breaking point.

"Oh, Joelle…" He whispered, reaching to cup her creamy white cheek with his hand. She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch with complete trust. She did not even flinch for a second at the chill of his skin.

"Erik." She breathed.

His hand left her cheek and his arm slid around her waist. He guided her to the couch, pulling her gently down into her lap. She acquiesced readily, snuggling against him.

'You've been such a comfort to me, Joelle, now it's my turn.' He thought. She had seemed so strong, since he had known her. When she defended him against her cousin, she had practically emanated strength and defiance. She was like a little flame.

"Tell me what's bothering you, Joelle." He commanded softly.

She shook her head, "I don't want to burden you when you're finally smiling."

"I can't be happy if you aren't. If you love me, then trust me."

She sighed, tensing up a little. He put his arm back around her.

"Trust me, Joelle."

"I do." She replied,

"Then tell me, that I might ease your troubled heart."

She relented, starting with her fear of Rojer, a fear that went back to childhood, telling her history with him, stories that chilled Erik. She told him of her father's desperate fear of losing his cherished daughter to the same man that had murdered his wife, how he'd slowly become a drunkard; of Dom's fear of losing the sister who was his best friend, coupled with his shame of exposing her to the threat that nearly destroyed her, and his fear at his inability to protect even himself. She told about the former chancy friendship with her cousin Raoul, whom she had had faith in and who had forever lost her trust and respect because of his treatment of a man she loved more than life (It touched him deeply to be referred to as such.). She told him of her confession to Haral, and her consuming guilt at breaking the heart of a true and loyal friend who just happened to be madly in love with her for reasons she didn't understand. Then she said something that brought tears to his eyes: She said that every moment apart from him she wished she was in his arms.

For a moment, all he could do was hold her tightly as his emotions surged, filling parts of him he'd thought long dead, feeling truly alive, reveling in her honesty.

Then he stroked her hair. "You're safe. If Rojer becomes a threat, I'll take care of him. If Raoul apoligizes, I'll consider it. Haral didn't stand a chance against your charms, any man would be doomed to fall, but things will get more comfortable between you. And I miss you, too. You're always welcome in my home, and in my arms." He promised.

But he still couldn't say those three all-important words. He hated himself for that.

But she seemed comforted, relaxing completely.

For awhile, they sat in comfortable silence, Erik amusing himself by playing with her hair, a new experience for him, as no woman ever came close enough to allow it. Idly, he thought of how many men took for granted the feel of a woman, warm and sweet, in their lap; the softness of their hair, the incredible feeling of arms draped lovingly about their shoulders. So much of this was new to him, and how exquisite it was! She had surrendered completely to the touch of his hand, and in doing so, claimed a piece of his soul forever. He never imagined the rapture of a warm, yielding body against him, the ecstasy brought by such complete trust. It was so much better than he had ever dreamed. Thrills surged through his body as she laid tender kisses along his jawline. Erik closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift away in the sensation of a simple pleasure, denied to him so long, the pleasure of being loved unconditionally.

Interesting.

Her shoulders were dusted with cute little freckles.

* * *

Joelle gave a blissful sigh, lavishing kisses on Erik's neck and cheek. He had chased away her fears with a few simple words in that sinfully beautiful voice of his. He had set her at perfect ease, soothing any pain she had ever felt, neutralizing any sadness that had ever touched her. She loved the feeling of his long, deft fingers touching her, toying with her hair. When she was here with him like this, all that existed was joy beyond measure. Here was paradise that did not exist in even heaven, yet she had found it in his arms. She loved his obvious joy in simply touching her, reveling in the attention that made her feel like a goddess. Every insecurity about herself disappeared, making her feel like she was perfect. More than that: Life was perfect, so long as he never stopped touching her.

It felt like something inside was filling up, touching every corner, filling to beyond capacity until she wanted to cry out her rapture from the top of every mountain, announce to every living thing that this was the man she loved. Never had she dreamed, when leaving that convent, that true joy could take the form of a man.

Particularly not the most bizarre, eccentric man she'd ever met.

Try as she might, she couldn't suppress a small "Oh!" of pleasure when she felt his long, elegant fingers tracing her neck. Looking up into his perfect (to her) golden eyes, she stretched out her neck and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

It was a chaste, innocent kiss (of course, it had to be, for the mask got in the way of anything else), but when he kissed her back, she was stunned by the happy tears welling in her eyes. No jokes came to her now. She felt no desire to take away the seriousness of the moment. No need to hide behind her habitual levity.

She smiled when she saw that his eyes were wet as well, bright with surprise and pleasure. She chuckled softly, realizing that, for all that his past held, he was still an innocent child in some respects, as was she. She loved him even more for that revelation. It was somewhat reassuring to know that he was as new to these sensations as she was.

She laid her cheek back against his chest, feeling him bury his face in her hair. She smiled drowsily.

She never knew that a touch could make her feel so loved. When Rojer touched her, she felt dirty, revolted. But Erik was different. She swore to herself that no other man would ever be able to get this close. If she lived forever, and only had Erik for this moment, she would never love anyone else, ever.

Neither of them would ever figure out quite when they fell asleep, but both knew that the dreams that came to them on that night were the sweetest they had ever known.


	6. Meeting the Brother

To Live Again 6

A/N- I hope my Scotsmen are convincing, I'm very bad with accents.

Dedicated to Heather and Adam, the world's cutest couple, and the best friends anyone could hope for.

* * *

Haral stared at the wall in front of him. 

Joelle was unavailable.

Joelle didn't love him.

He had lost the perfect woman.

His wild sprite, spirited like a Scotswoman. Like a Valkyrie.

A harsh, animalistic howl tore from his throat.

"JOOOOOOEEEEELLLLLLLLLEEEEE!"

"I see things dinnae go so well with the lass?" Willem's voice asked.

"Nay." He said, voice hoarse. "She loves someone else."

"Ah, well, there're plenny other fish in t' sea." Will replied.

"None like Joelle."

"Do yeh really love the lass?" His twin asked.

"Ye know I do." He muttered.

"Then don' ye want 'er teh be happy?"

"I do."

"Perhaps someday she'll come back. Until then, find someone who can fill the void. Mebbe yeh'll find someone better."

"I doubt it."

"Try. Take comfort in the friendship yeh still have." Will advised.

"I'll try." Haral agreed sadly.

"That's the spirit."

* * *

"Check." Joelle said confidently, eyes twinkling as she grinned at him across the table. 

Erik raised an eyebrow, examining the setup. All he needed was a few seconds before he moved, smirking. "Mate, my dear." He replied.

Her jaw dropped, and she stared at the board. "How…?"

He laughed, "You underestimated your opponent. How many times I've beaten Daroga with that move."

She pouted, trying to see any way which she could have avoided that trap. "You're just too good at this!"

"You're pretty good for a beginner." He soothed, "You'll get better at it." He tried not to think how cute she looked when she pouted, or how tempting those rosy lips were.

"Hmmm… Not good enough to beat you, though, my brilliant love." She muttered.

As always, the term of endearment made his heart flutter pleasantly. "One never knows." He recovered, "Perhaps with enough practice…" He left that statement hanging.

Love shone in her eyes as she smiled back at him. God, how could he have not noticed so long? How could he think he could just be her friend? That mischievous little half-smile of hers was absurdly tantalizing, so much more alluring than it should have been.

"Have I ever told you of the time Raoul got his head stuck in a log?"

"WHAT?" The statement caught him off guard. "In a what?"

She snickered, "A log!"

"The fop…was stuck in a log." He mused, "Oh, you must tell me this one, Jo." He chuckled.

"Well, I was off with Dom and Rojer." That flash of fear in her eyes, even now. It infuriated him that Rojer could still frighten her. She continued, smile slightly distracted. "Raoul was visiting and was not content to wait, so he came along. We were in the woods, and Dom said he thought he saw a hare dive into this truly revolting half-rotted log. There was a small hole, and Raoul wanted to see it. His head fit in ok, but when he tried to take it out, it stuck!" She giggled, "So there he was, bugs crawling down his formerly immaculate white shirt. He tried to stand up, and half of the log broke off and came with him! Dom had to cut it off, piece by piece! I sort of felt bad because he was bawling like a baby, but I couldn't stop laughing!" She sobered a bit, "So for the rest of the visit, Dom and Rojer taunted him, calling him stumpy, bugs, blockhead… things of that nature. They just wouldn't let him live it down. Finally, I got them to stop by threatening dismemberment and slow castration. You should have seen the looks on their faces! I was ten, then, but they knew enough to take me seriously by then." She sighed, "Raoul followed me for weeks. I was as nice as I could be; he gets enough people not taking him seriously, so I thought it would help if I just listened now and then. He wasn't such a bad guy, once he realized that I wasn't going to coddle him or lie to him 'for his own good'. I guess everyone needs to be treated like they mean something by someone. So, every time he came over, he would stick to me like glue. Now I wish I would have just ignored him."

Erik thought, "No, you couldn't have known how he'd turn out." Then it dawned on him, "Castration? Dismemberment? From sweet little you?"

She giggled, "I did mention I was a tough little thing."

"…Castration…?" He was shocked. It was hard to even picture that threat coming out of her. Sure, she was flippant, sometimes nearly as sarcastic as him, but never quite vicious.

She laughed even harder, nearly falling off the chair. Escaped hair stuck out at odd angles off her head.

He shook his head, "Darling, you continue to surprise me."

She winked, "Well, good. I wouldn't want you getting too bored." She tucked some of the loose hair back, looking up exasperatedly, "Now, you see, that is why I think it's funny when people say I'm pretty." She stated, pointing irritatedly at the curl.

He snickered. "I don't think your hair's going to stop doing that just because you glare at it."

"One never knows."

* * *

"Hello, Dom." Joelle chirped. 

"You're in a good mood." He remarked.

"I had a good night. Erik knows just the right things to say."

"You two haven't…?"

"Lord, no!" She gasped, "I…he…uh…we…" She floundered, "It's just not the right time. Besides, he hasn't expressed any such desire." She hastily finished. "If I even knew _how_, that is."

He grinned mischievously, "Ah, so it's all a matter of opportunity."

"When did you get this randy?"

"I'm getting married in two weeks, I have a right to be like this!"

"Ah, getting out last minute bachelor remarks?"

"You know it. So how is your man?"

"Adorable."

"Seriously." Dom chided.

Joelle smiled, "He seemed a lot better. He said he wouldn't mind meeting you. Perhaps you could come tonight?"

"Trying to get it out of the way?"

Joelle blushed, "Dom, how do I put this? I love my Erik dearly, but the man's hopelessly moody. It's best to find a time when he's not brooding or paranoid."

Dom snickered. "No wonder you two get along so well."

"I resent that."

"You resemble that."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He clapped, "Bravo, bravo! Such an astounding display of maturity!"

She rolled her eyes, "I don't envy Colette her task of training you to be a well-mannered man."

"I don't envy Erik your sharp tongue, you little shrew." He responded automatically.

She glared at him, he glared back, then they both burst out laughing.

"We…still got it!" He said finally.

She shook her head, still laughing.

* * *

Erik was perusing an older copy a Greek comedy when he heard voices outside. He took a deep breath to quell his instinctual reaction of instant panic to listen. 

"Pixy." Said a vaguely familiar man's voice.

"Ass." Replied a female voice that he would know anywhere.

"Lovelorn fool."

"Ah, dear brother, now that could apply to either one of us. Now couldn't it?"

"Very well, then I must concede to that point."

He sighed, relaxing a little. It was only Joelle and her brother. She had said something about bringing him by later on, 'sooner rather than later to lay his doubts at rest.' A shard of a mirror, broken in one of his fits of rage, lay on the shelf beside him. He saw his reflection, the more human side of his face revealed, but the twisted, deformed lips all too visible. As always, he hated the reflection he saw.

"Are you sure he's here?"

"Yes." Her voice was sad. He knew why. She hated that he needed to hide away.

Erik found himself looking at something: the mask he had mentioned to Christine. 'A mask that makes me look like anybody' he had said of it. A thought occurred to him, but now wasn't the time to do that yet. 'Later.'

"Well then, why hasn't he come out?"

"He will, Dom. Unless he mistook you for Raoul. In which case, he's probably getting that nice little rope toy of his."

Amused, he rolled his eyes at the young man's impatience. He was nervous about meeting the man he'd only ever heard before. Experience had taught him only to expect uncomplimentary looks and rejection.

'No,' he thought, 'Joelle wouldn't have brought him, then.'

'_Then why do I hesitate? I trust her. She's given me reason to do so.'_

With that last thought, he went to the door, and went to meet Joelle.

* * *

When she saw Erik, Joelle ran to hug him. She felt him tense up slightly, and then relax. 

'I wish I knew why he always tenses up.' She thought, then dismissed it, 'at least he relaxes for me.'

She looked up into his eyes, seeing anxiety in them. "Don't worry," she whispered, "I'm sure you two will get along fine. And if things get awkward, I've got plenty of 'awkward teenage Raoul' stories that you'll both enjoy."

* * *

"I'm sure you two will get along fine." Joelle whispered. 

Erik gave her a very doubtful look, remembering, as he always did, his deformity, and particularly the visibility of his twisted lips… His twisted lips which he now found Joelle kissing.

"Don't doubt yourself." She chided quietly.

He had to smile. That kiss reminded him of everything they had, and the reason he was out here. He reached down for her hand, which readily curled around his. He could definitely do this…So long as she didn't leave his side.

* * *

Dom could definitely see the insecurities that plagued the man. But he could also see the definite love Joelle had for him, and though he didn't know the other man's feelings, his actions revealed trust in his sister. 

That was good enough, for now. The rest, he would find in time.

Introductions were given, and Dom noticed that Erik did not consent to shaking his hand.

Erik seemed to avoid contact with everyone but Joelle. That didn't surprise him too much. The Opera Ghost would be a very wanted man if anyone knew that he was alive, so distrust was inevitable. It concerned him to think of the man's crimes, but for Joelle's sake, he would not tell. Besides, he owed the man his life; betrayal was unthinkable.

He wondered idly what lie behind the white mask on the man's face, but decided to save that question for later.

Or never; the man had been handy with the lasso, if Joelle's account was anything to go by.

* * *

Erik couldn't help but blush a bit when Joelle introduced him as 'Erik, the love of my life.' 

She meant it.

Even knowing her as he now did, that still surprised him.

Dom held out a hand to shake, and he involuntarily drew back.

Damn.

Even after this long, the conditioning was still with him.

He wondered if he had ever completely left the Freak Show.

Joelle steered conversation in a safe direction, effectively diverting her brother.

Erik felt grateful for that.

Soon conversation became more comfortable, with more amusing sibling banter scattered throughout, and, as they went inside, he relaxed, drawing strength from the acceptance in the atmosphere, and the soft, loving presence beside him of Joelle. Now and then, as they walked in, their sides would brush together. The contact with her was reassuring, as was the fact that she did nothing to avoid it.


	7. A Plan

To Live Again 7

A/N- I'm running low on sanity right now, so if this chapter sucks, tell me. But tell me nicely, or I'll sic a rabid Raoul on you.

To Heather and Adam… Heh… Me brain hurty, but you know what I mean, right guys?

* * *

Off the coast of France, hiding in a secluded cove, was moored a ship that meant death to innocent passenger ships. Emblazoned in gold on the side was 'Lady Joelle', and the figurehead was a beautiful black haired woman in a white dress.

Inside the ship, a dark haired man paced in front of a life-sized portrait of a woman as lovely as the figurehead, but slightly younger, and wearing a short, clingy silk nightgown. The man rubbed irritably at a mark encircling his neck, muttering curses in Spanish. Turning to the portrait, a fanatic gleam entered his eyes. He glared out the window then, looking in the general direction of Paris.

"So you think you can keep her from me, spectre? Joelle is _mine_! Dead you may be, oh Opera Ghost, but death will not save you from my wrath should you try to thwart me again." The rubbing of his neck increased. "Joelle belongs to ME! Rojer! Any man that would try to touch my woman will taste my steel! MASKED FILTH!"

The ship rocked lightly under his feet, the conditions making sailing impossible. Rojer moved to the portrait with the easy grace of an experienced sailor. He caressed the portrait, tracing the young woman's hips and the curve of her breast. "Just you wait, my darling." He muttered in a voice thick with arousal, "I'll be back for you."

* * *

Joelle shuddered, the delicate veil dropping from her hands.

"Joelle, what's the matter?" Colette asked, up on the dressmaker's stand.

She shook her head, bending to pick up the veil. "I…don't know. I suddenly just felt very strange…"

"Oh… What do you think of this dress?" Colette whirled around.

"The one with the goldwork looked better with your coloring, particularly with your red hair."

"Alright." She agreed, "I..did like that one." She admitted nervously.

* * *

"You're pacing again, Dom." Erik chided.

Joelle's brother had shown up about an hour ago, restless and bored in the absence of his fiancée and sister.

"Am I?" Dom asked distractedly, stopping and looking down, "Oh, I suppose I was. Sorry…"

"You want to see the dress, don't you?"

"Yes! I know Colette's going to be absolutely gorgeous, and it vexes me that I must wait until the wedding to see it!"

Erik smirked, "Patience, young Etienne, is a virtue."

Dom snorted, "I'm a twenty-nine year old bachelor; what do I know of patience?"

The boy was amusing, Erik thought. In the little over two days since meeting Dom, the younger man's easy humor and laid back manner had set him more at ease, and they had warmed up to each other. Erik still kept his guard up, though, the only one who seemed to inspire that calm, vulnerable, yet safe feeling was Joelle.

He sighed, "Well, Dom, do you love Colette?"

"Certainly."

"Is she worth waiting for?" Erik continued patiently.

"Yes."

"Then you'll survive."

Dom stared, inspecting the other man carefully.

Erik was uncomfortable under Dom's scrutiny, instinct telling him that nothing good could come of this… The younger man's gaze was intent, and thoughtful. Then he nodded.

"You're right, Erik." He said softly, "Thank you."

"Y…you're welcome." He replied, surprised.

So much seemed to surprise him these days, though. Even with this in mind, Dom's next question took him completely by surprise.

"Would you be my best man, Erik? I really didn't know who to ask. I definitely respect you, and I know it would mean a lot to Joelle if you were there." He gave Erik a conspiratorial wink, "And she's the maid of honor…" He trailed off suggestively.

Erik stared, stunned. "What? But you barely know me."

Dom shrugged, "I've fallen out with most of my older friends: They've become asses the lot of them. And I do owe you my life, and someday we'll be brothers. Besides, as I said, it would mean a lot to Joelle."

But… what? How? Why? How could he go out in public?

The thought struck him abruptly: The mask! The one he had intended for life with Christine. It had taken nearly a year of painstaking work in his lab to find the proper chemical composition to create a lifelike human face that would move, and breathe, and allow sensation as it needed to.

That would be perfect! And nobody would recognize him! Nobody but Daroga knew his lat name, and if he hadn't told before, even when he thought Erik was dead, he wouldn't tell now! Perfect!

A smile spread across his face, "Thank you, Dom, I'm honored. Let's surprise Joelle, though, shall we?"

Dom grinned, a familiar mischievous twinkle entering his dark blue eyes. "I like the way you think, my friend!"

Erik restrained a despairing sigh. Yes, this was certainly a good looking family he might enter into. Hopefully, if he and Joelle decided to have children, they would look like her.

He liked the thought of becoming a father. Little ones, with Joelle's pretty face, and Joelle's pretty eyes, and perhaps a voice like his. They would never know even a second of pain or sorrow, he vowed, never would they suffer as he had, or fear as Joelle still did.

Another thought occurred to him, the thought of seeing Joelle in the sunlight, a creature of beauty in her element, surrounded by the flowers she loved. She had said that things bloomed early this year. He could see it in his mind…golden sunlight glinting off her shadowy hair, azure eyes like mirrors of the sky… soft skin—

"Hello?" Dom's voice shattered his revery. "Hello?" The young man's voice was full of exasperation. "Please tell me you weren't daydreaming about my sister again!" Dom pleaded.

Erik actually felt himself blushing. "I…ah…refuse to respond on the grounds that it might incriminate me."

Dom rolled his eyes, "God, you two are hopeless!"

"Your point being?"

* * *

Joelle was sitting in the garden, looking at the swiftly reviving plants. She had plans for this spring. The garden had fallen into disrepair in the years of her absence, she noticed. She wasn't surprised: The garden had been a sanctuary for her and her mother. Years ago, when her parents were newly married, her mother had started a garden which grew into a sort of Eden. Love of the plants and tender care of all things growing and delicate was something she had passed to her daughter. In her absence, and with her mother's death, she supposed no one could bear to enter. She would have died if she couldn't come here, she knew. Her mother's spirit was everywhere here, speaking to her, whispering ideas for the upkeep and minor changes for this year, as Mama had when she was alive. This garden was her legacy, and part of both of them. It hurt to see it so choked with weeds, the twinkling, singing springs diminished to mere, weed tangled trickles without proper care.

Joelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath, picturing the garden as she would make it; together with the spirit of her mother. Tomorrow. She would fix this haven tomorrow. For now, she would remember.

"Mama… I've changed so much… What would you say to see me now?"

The breeze swirled around her like an embrace. Her wild hair stuck to the wet trails of her tears. She sniffled.

"I could never cry for you then, mother… I just didn't want it to be real… Can you forgive me?"

A sudden warmth flew through the evening breeze and suddenly she was _part_ of the garden. She could feel her mother's love around her, in every leaf that needed her care, every delicate flower that depended on her.

"Thank you, Mama. For saving me then, for forgiving me now. I would be dead now, too, if Rojer had taken me."

In her heightened awareness, she detected the sound of footsteps. She opened her eyes calmly, allowing the breeze to dry her tears as the sun dropped out of sight at last. She took another deep breath, listening. "Hello, Christine." She didn't turn toward the garden entrance.

She heard the woman gasp and smiled. "This was my mother's place." She whispered. "She's part of it. Come sit down."

The other woman slowly walked over and sat beside her on the bench.

Joelle continued, "Would you believe we're the first two to go in here since that night? Mother and I used to spend so long out here, making everything perfect. Part of her will always live on here."

"You must have been very close." Christine murmured.

"Oh, yes."

"I don't remember much about my mother. I was very young when she died. Raoul never knew his at all."

"Must we speak of him?" She asked, a dangerous edge on her voice.

But Christine persisted. "Your anger hurts him."

"As does that lovely shiner on his face, I imagine." Joelle replied happily.

"Yes, that too… please forgive him!"

"Not unless Erik does. I think I was perfectly clear on that."

"He had reason to be concerned, you know. Erik has killed before. He tried to kill Raoul." Christine reminded her.

"He wasn't the first to try to kill Raoul." Joelle remarked, "Nor will he be the last, I suspect. Raoul seems to anger people constantly."

"You can't really mean that…"

"I love Erik. Someone has to defend him, and I have no love for any who would hurt him or speak ill of him." Joelle said resolutely. A chill night wind followed as if to support her words.

Christine stood, backing away, "I'm sorry you feel that way."

"What? Sorry someone sees the beauty in a man you nearly destroyed? Sorry I love him? Perhaps sorry you left him like you did, and never even checked back to see if he was okay?"

Christine winced at the jibe. "No, sorry that we cannot be friends. You stand by your man, I must stand by mine."

"For what it's worth, I had thought Raoul was much better than that, and it saddens me that he is not." She responded in a stiff, formal tone.

* * *

She had no idea what to say to her husband.

Christine paused outside their door, listening to the silence where once was laughter and conversation.

Raoul and Joelle had been so close. He'd been so eager for her to meet her. How had things gone so wrong?

Slowly, she entered. Raoul looked sadly at her from his seat by the window. A woman's lovely voice drifted up, singing a song about the stars.

"That's her." Raoul said. "I don't remember the song, but I know that voice. So much has changed…" His hand lightly touched the still bruised side of his face.

"I tried."

"I know, and I love you for it, but Joelle's always been stubborn, annoyingly so, and her loyalties are fierce." He sighed, "I remember that day every time my face twinges…every time I look in the mirror… There was so much force in her slim little hand, so much rage in her eyes… She's never looked at me with such anger, and such betrayal. I never thought I would ever go too far for her, but I've really screwed up this time."

Christine shook her head, "Such a complex woman. She can seem gentle as a summer breeze in one moment, and terrifying the next. And she says some of the oddest, most unladylike things sometimes."

"She's like Dom, she's nice until you hurt someone she loves. Once, that fury protected me. Perhaps I'm as weak as everyone thinks. I can't even talk to her, and I certainly cannot confront her beast."

"That's the sort of talk that angers her, you know." Christine reminded him.

"I despise the man, you know that."

"Don't be a stubborn fool, Raoul. A simple apology could end this."

* * *

The sun caressed Joelle's face as she woke up. Looking around, she saw that she had fallen asleep in the garden.

"My hair probably looks like Medusa's snakes." She muttered.

Rising, she saw something glinting nearby. Carefully checking the clump of greenery, she saw a necklace chain. Picking it up, she saw the familiar charm in the center. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Mama's necklace…" She breathed, and ran inside to clean it off. "I thought it was lost."

She took it as a sign, from her mother, that she approved of her daughter, and her choices, and that everything would be ok. She needed that reassurance, when everything was so confusing.


	8. The Opera Ghost called 'Kitty'

To Live Again 8

A/N- If any readers of Susan Kay's Phantom are reading this, yes, I did intend an irony in Joelle and Dom's last names. Bravo to those who spotted it.

Apologies for the lateness of this chapter, but due to stress and fears of blindness due to dancing eye spots (luckily, well slightly luckily, they only mean that I now get migraines… yay?) I've been to wrung out to write.

To Heather and Adam, my first readers, my best friends, but I'm _your_ biggest fan.

Oh, and this chapter has a title:

The Opera Ghost Called 'Kitty'

* * *

Joelle cast a glance back at the manor as she sped away; away from stress, trouble, and the commotion of Dom's upcoming wedding.

Things had been far too chaotic there the past few days, with the looming threat of Rojer, her brother's nerves about the wedding, the way he kept looking over his shoulder. And then there were all the relatives shipped in who _had_ to exclaim about how 'beautiful you've grown up, dear' and 'when will you be getting married, child?' Then there was Raoul, who kept looking at her like a kicked puppy. It was a look that had caused her to cheer him up in the past, but now it annoyed her. She supposed she should feel guilty for putting that look on his face… and that impressive injury (which she was secretly proud of).

She couldn't remember ever being as full of rage as she'd been that day; she'd taken down a larger man, and could have handled more. Looking at her dainty little hand it was hard to believe she'd had such power. She wondered if she could unleash some of that rage on Rojer. For once, if she could fight for herself and not merely be 'protected'. Perhaps be as wild as she seemed.

A smile came across her face.

_Yes._

Beating Rojer to a bloody pulp could be fun.

And talk about poetic justice.

She could fight for herself, and severely injure anyone who was cruel to Erik.

She would never let anyone hurt him again; obviously, he had suffered enough in the past.

_Erik._

The mere thought of him had her grinning like a fool.

She loved him so much. Their relationship was nearly perfect.

_Nearly._

She supposed her small doubts were selfish, but although she forgot them immediately when she was with him, they rose again when they were apart.

The look in his eyes whenever Christine was mentioned hurt her deeply, making her want to cry in jealous frustration.

She consoled herself with the fact that she, Joelle, was his lover, and Christine was unlikely to come back to Erik any time soon. She'd deal with that if it became a real problem.

The way he flinched if she moved too suddenly, or if her hand came too close to his mask worried her, but she dismissed that as a quirk brought on by previous trauma.

As much as it concerned her to think about what could have happened, all she could do for that was make him feel as secure as possible and hope that nothing brought up that bad history too strongly.

Then there was the fact that he became silent whenever she said 'I love you'. She'd said it wouldn't bother her. That she would be delighted if he could ever come to feel that way for her but that she saw no need to press the issue, but it did hurt a little.

Which wasn't to say that she loved him any less for these traits, of course.

It might have been easier if she had, but instead, she continued to love him more with every passing day.

She loved him so much it was physically painful.

It was funny.

She was Joelle Etienne, pursued, desired for her wild spirit as the woman no man could tame, and yet the man she chose out of all was one who might never love her back. The oddest man she'd ever met, in fact!

The irony was unmistakable.

Perhaps in a few years she would find it amusing.

There were too many people back home at the manor: Too much talk and noise and chaos. Four more days until the wedding, but most would probably stay on longer. Everyone was pestering her about when _she_ was getting married, and reminding her about the problem with Rojer, and pointing out that this or that distant in-law from their spouse's family was available/handsome/wealthy. To these she would always reply 'in my own time', 'Yes, I know, and thank you _sooo_ much for reminding me', and, smugly, 'I have someone in mind already, thank you very much.' That usually quieted them.

For now, she was glad to be getting away, particularly when she was going to her man.

Another smile came as she thought of the times with him. Sweet kisses, intelligent conversation, and much snuggling filled their time. All so innocent, but so precious to her.

* * *

Erik sighed, looking down at the organ.

He hadn't planned on ever using it again, let alone to play such a sunny, uplifting song, but somehow, inspiration had risen up a lot lately, and filled him near to the bursting point.

This was a new piece, with two interlocking parts. One was deeper, more solemn, downright lonely. That one started alone, sad and almost hesitant. Then it faded a little, quieted as another part entered. This one was vibrant, innocent, soaring and weaving like a bird in flight. The two part played a bit alone, then joined, slowly. Strife rose, with slightly discordant patterns. The first part spun off and dissipated and the first part was again sad, resigned. Then the second, higher part returned, soft and sweet, the sound of a whispered promise. The two parts locked loosely, slightly joined. Another theme entered, strife in another form, like an attack. The second part rose while the first retreated. Then the other theme exited, leaving the two original parts again. The song was soft and calm, then later it rose, soaring, flying, the two parts singing out together euphorically. The song calmed after that passionate interlude, softening into an idyllic harmony, with smaller echoes accompanying, then fading together. The first part dropped out. The second, considerably more sadly, played on, strengthened quickly by the earlier echoes, then faded peacefully. As it faded, the first theme came back, they joined and soared exultantly again until the end.

He had no idea what brought him this idea. Shaking his head, he quickly recorded it for later observation, an action carried out instantly by habit.

He then set it down, and wondered why he suddenly decided to return to music.

Erik shrugged, and began to work on creating a lullaby. This thought he knew the origin of: It would be a gift to Dom and his wife when they had their first child.

He sighed. His one friend (Besides the Persian, but Nadir Khan thought he was dead, and it was much better that way: Less awkward explanations involved, and less uncomfortable reminders of his past.) was getting married, and he couldn't even tell his lady he loved her, or even be sure of his true feelings. Love was a messy matter.

Not that he was complaining. Things might be confusing right now, but he felt alive again.

Maybe Joelle would come today.

That thought brought a smile to his face as he tapped out the keys of the lullaby, testing out the sound.

"Lovely." Said a voice. "You know, I never heard you play before, but now I know why Christine called you the Angel of Music."

It was as if the thought had summoned her!

He smiled, feeling an unaccustomed blush tinge his cheeks. "Hello, Joelle." He said, not bothering to turn around. "I was hoping you'd have time to visit today."

Arms slipped around his shoulders from behind, and he felt a face in his hair, which was loose today. "Don't I always?" Joelle's voice murmured, followed by light kisses on his head.

"Tease." He chided, "Come where I can reach you, you little minx!"

She obediently released him and settled lightly in his lap. "Better?" she asked innocently, with that adorable little mischievous half-smile.

"Much."

"You look very much like a happy cat, with that smirk and those cute golden eyes." She remarked.

He raised an eyebrow, "A cat, eh? That's a new one." He liked cats. Ayesha, his cat, still showed up occasionally. This was certainly one of his more favorable comparisons.

She winked and twirled a loose lock of his hair around her finger.

He chuckled, "And you think I'm cute? I must confess, that's pretty new as well."

"Get used to it, kitty."

"I certainly hope you intend to keep that nickname private."

She giggled, "I might."

He threw up a hand in mock-frustration, "Joelle, dear! Now who would be intimidated by the formidable Opera Ghost if he was to be called 'kitty'?"

"I thought you weren't a ghost anymore?"

He waved that off, "Beside the point, dear." He feigned frustration. "I do miss scaring the pants off of those silly little managers, though." His smirk deepened, "The larger man shrieks like a little girl when he thinks he's in trouble."

"Such a naughty boy you've been." She murmured. "Would it be dreadful of me to find it intriguing?"

"Terribly." He shook his head, "No respectable man would associate with such a wild woman. Looks like you're stuck with me. I'm afraid I'm not at all respectable."

"Oh well." She shrugged, "Normally I'd put up a fight, but, you see, I'm quite happy with my naughty, disreputable, perfect man. Much less boring than the tame little 'respectable' boys."

A satisfying answer. He loved the lively little banter they so often shared. It was similar to that which he had witnessed between Joelle and her brother, but with different intent and undercurrents of tantalizing innuendo.

She kissed him. "I love you so much."

He tried to say something, but the words escaped him. Silently, he pulled her closer. She nestled her head beneath his chin.

Erik felt guilty. Even when he failed her, still she yeilded to his touch, still she relaxed in his arms, still she fit so perfectly in his embrace, which Christine, as much as he'd always loved her, never had. Joelle was more delicately built, about an inch and a half shorter and willowy, with less wide-set shoulders. Cute, freckled shoulders. Even now, even after all the time together, even when Christine had said not a word to him, he was still so unwilling, so unable, to give his heart to this woman.

Even when he must be hurting her, hurting her as he had never hurt Christine, she stayed. Christine had left when he gave her everything, Joelle stayed when he gave her so little.

"…I got my dress, dear." Joelle said.

Even now she protected him from his own guilt, changing the subject to spare his feelings.

"What color?" He asked, acquiescing.

"Light blue. It's really pretty."

"And perfect for your eyes. Try not to outshine the bride."

She practically glowed when he said that. Feeling guilty again, he realized that it was the first real compliment he'd ever given her.

"Aw, you're sweet. I wish you were coming to the wedding. I'll miss you." She pouted.

"You know I don't like crowds."

"I'd be with you."

No response. He thought.

"Besides, you'll be having too much fun to think of me."

"I always think of you, when we're apart." She said softly.

'_Ouch_.' Her honesty was shaming.

"I miss you too, my Joelle."

What? Where did that come from? Erik was almost as surprised by his admission as she was delighted.

Her blue eyes were as radiant as the noon sky in summer, lit up like perfect stars. She nestled her cheek back against him.

For a long time there was silence, and then he felt something soaking through the front of his shirt. Taking her shoulders gently, he forced her to look him in the eye. She was crying.

Hesitantly, gently, he brushed the tears from her face.

"Why these tears, Jo?"

She closed her eyes, smiling fully. "I'm just so happy." She sniffled.

He shook his head, sighing, "I should have told you. There's so much I should say, but I just can't yet."

"I understand." She said, "But it means so much hearing you say that."

"By the way, dear, how has Dom been? Last time I saw him, he seemed rather antsy." He chuckled, "Said something about wishing 'the damned thing would just happen already. Should have just eloped.' Hasn't come quite that far, has he?"

"Not quite…We had slip him sleeping powder yesterday to keep him from pacing all night muttering things to himelf. My family's been trying to match me with these 'nice young men that happened to have been in the neighborhood for the wedding'…. Asses, the lot of them. Seemed quite put out when I told them I was no longer on the market, so to speak. But… back to Dom… Er… he's been very nervous."

"Young men generally are." He nodded. "Don't worry, he'll calm down: Usually it's the bride that gets cold feet."

"How comforting." She frowned at him. "You are incorrigible, love, you know that, right?"

"I've been told." He shook his head, tapping his wrist, "Bad Erik."

"Smartass."

"As opposed to Raoul, who is a dumbass."

She gave a disgusted face, "Eech. Don't even mention that name."

"I hate to mess things up for you."

"It would have happened eventually." She soothed, "Besides, I'd choose you over that idiot any day." _Unlike some people._ She didn't say it, but she might as well have. He was always touched by her protective outrage on his behalf.

"Why couldn't I have seen you first, instead of Christine?" He asked regretfully.

She sighed resignedly, "Because, dear, I was in a convent then, and I was not the same person I am now. You wouldn't recognize the girl that my fear had turned me into."

"But still you."

"What's done is done."

Joellesmiled, "Dom still hasn't told me who his best man is."

"I'm sure you two will get along."

"Did you know the Best Man and the Maid Of Honor must share the first dance?"

"Oh? Should I be worried?" He asked smugly

"I'll never stray."

"'Tisn't you I worry about. You know how some of your brother's friends are."

She raised an eyebrow, "Oh, if whoever the man is becomes a problem, I can hold my own. Raoul still bears the mark. Lovely little irony there, isn't it? When he was mocking you, I gave him a mark to be more embarrassed for: Losing a fight to a girl! And he can't say anything because he knows I'd do worse if he put you in danger."

"I never saw this vindictive side before." Intriguing.

"He had it coming."

"Ah. So how is your garden doing?"

"I've added some grapevines and strawberries. The flowers just needed a gentle hand to guide them and the weeds haven't come back since I disposed of them." She fiddled with the locket at her throat. "I've had to replace the fountains, they're hopelessly mucked inside the works, but the brooks were easy enough, once I righted their course. I grew some more daffodils, the white ones, Mama's favorite, and some starflowers. I put in some nicer roses. I'm thinking of crossbreeding certain ones, because I've found one whose color I like, but the petal shape could be better. And I've designed a fountain that I particularly like, it's a harp, and the water flows down from certain spots to form the strings. I think I'll put it near the Irises. I'm also working on a memorial for Mama, where she died."

"Sounds as if you've been busy."

"Being busy, in the garden, or here with you, means I can avoid the more annoying members of my family. Raoul's been following me. He caught me singing in my garden and tried singing along with me, but he sounds rather a lot like a dying weasel."

Erik snickered.

"I just gave him this look of disgust and walked away. Christine forbade him ever to sing again."

He found that very satisfying. As was her next comment.

"She still talks about your voice, you know."

"Someday I'll sing for you." He promised.

* * *

Rojer looked over the paper, sneering. Then he saw a story on Dom's wedding. An evil smile came across his face.

"Oh, how lovely. My old friend is still alive and getting married. It would be just rude of me not to drop by to 'congratulate' him. I'm sure Joelle would be happy to see that I'm ok, and I'm sure she'll save a dance. And the best part- no masked freaks to cut in!"

He laughed, "Oh, I'll have to find an outfit!"

* * *

Two days before the wedding, Erik was thinking about outfits as well.

"I'd recommend the second one." Said a male voice… Raoul! "The one with the blue satin accents. It will look nicer with Joelle's dress."

Erik tensed up, wheeling around. "What. Do. You. Want?" he growled.

Raoul lifted his hands in surrender. "I come with peaceful intent. I'm unarmed."

"But why?"

Raoul sighed.

The mark on his face really was awful, Erik admitted privately, and he'd never seen an eye blackened quite so darkly. It was slightly amusing.

Who was he kidding? It was very amusing!

He'd have to remind himself not to incur Joelle's wrath.

Not that she'd ever hit him, he knew, for she seemed fiercely protective, but some other object would certainly be broken.

"Well?" he asked.

"I came to apologize. I was out of line. But I've been such a failure to those I care about… I couldn't let Joelle get hurt again. I wanted to protect her. I know, she's strong, she probably doesn't need it, but…"

Erik nodded guardedly, "She does have that effect on people. After all, you know how we met."

Raoul nodded. "Please forgive my behavior, and my words. I don't like you, but I would like a truce…for Joelle. Maybe she'll speak to me again…"

"I'll accept your apology for her. But you know, she'll be on her guard every time we're in the same room, every time you look at me… She's an admirable woman, and I think you know how protective she is. Like a lioness."

"Ah….yeah…."

"She may never trust you again."

"She was the only person in my family who did anyway. Everyone else thought I was too incapable of anything. Not trust, not intelligence, certainly not talent or artistry. She was the only one not to consider me a disappointment, and even though I have Christine now, I need some of the support I had growing up. Taking over after my brother died is such a challenge, and then there's all the damage control, and her letters were always a comfort. You know, it's more helpful to have someone who expects better from you and treats you like an intelligent person than it is to be indulged as most people did. That was what she did. What good qualities I have, I owe in part to the summers I spent with my cousins and their parents."

Erik nodded, "Dom and Joelle are good people." He thought a moment, "And why did you think I'd need to think about matching Joelle's dress for the wedding?"

"So you are going?"

"Damn. How did you figure it out?"

Raoul shrugged, "I notice things sometimes. Nobody ever _told_ me anything growing up, so I had to find out on my own."

"Oh."

"Does Joelle know you'll be there?"

"It's supposed to be a surprise. Tell her and I'll—"

"Yes, yes, I know, you'll toss me in the lake or something like that." Raoul interrupted, waving dismissively. "I won't tell anyone."

"See that you don't or I really will make sure you become much better acquainted with the Punjab. It hasn't tasted your blood in awhile."

"I'm going to leave before you get violent, Phantom."

"Please do."

* * *

"How did it go?" Christine asked.

"Much better than I expected, but I notice one of his hands seemed to be hidden at all times, and I swore I saw the hilt of a knife." Raoul shuddered. "I hope that cousin of mine appreciates that."

"She's reasonable usually… When it doesn't come down to the safety of the man she loves."

"I still don't know what she sees in that mo…man." He shook his head.

"The heart has reasons which reason knows not, mon cher." Christine soothed. "I have to be glad though, that Erik has found someone who appreciates him as I never could. It was never that I didn't love him, only that I loved him as a father or uncle, and so the concept of the sort of relationship he wanted frightened me. You were always the one I wanted as a lover, and you will always be my one and only. Even if your family is insane."

"Hearing you say it like that makes me so happy." Raoul whispered, "And I suppose that I do wish even that beas…person the chance at the sort of heaven I've found."

"I'm glad you can get over the past."

"Somewhat over it." He conceded.

"Come to bed, dear, it's late."

"Not so late."

"Exactly." She purred.

* * *

"I thought I'd find you here, Joelle."

She turned around, "Oh, hi Dom."

He looked around, "God, this place is gorgeous. Mom would be so proud."

"It was her garden. I don't know how you two could let it fall to ruin like it was." There was slight reproach in her voice.

"She died here, sis. And we lost you, too, that day. Imagine how hard that was." He slipped his arm around her.

The sun was coming up. Dom sighed, "The wedding is tomorrow…"

Joelle nodded, "Don't worry."

"I'm not. I just wish it would happen. I'm not to see Colette all day now, you know."

"You'll see her tomorrow." She soothed.

"How would you feel if you couldn't see Erik for a whole day?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Disconnected, detached, lonely…" She shuddered at the thought.

"That's how I feel. Colette completes me." Dom said.

"I'm glad you're happy."

"I hope someday you can find such happiness. Marriage and all, I mean."

"I am content." She insisted.

"By the way, I think you will like my Best Man."

Joelle rolled her eyes, "Just because I have to dance with the man doesn't mean I'll like him. I'm a one man woman."

"I think you will!" Dom's eyes twinkled.

"Whatever." Joelle replied, "You know I love only Erik." She kissed his cheek, and left.

Dom sighed, "I know, Joelle, but I hope you don't come to regret it."

* * *

That's all for now, folks. 


	9. The Damn Best Man

Blushes Awwww...! Thanks guys! I wuv you too!

Without further ado...

To Live Again 9

Yep, it's me again. I think you all know to look back to chapter one for the disclaimer? Good. Ok, now we're getting to the good stuff. I trust you all read the interlude? Well, it wasn't all important stuff, so even if you skipped it, you should know what's going on in this chapter.

To Heather and Adam, the world's cutest couple! You guys rok!

* * *

Joelle paced in front of the door. "Where is he? Where the hell is the best man?"

"I'm sure he'll be here soon enough." Dom said calmly.

"But he's very late!"

"Yes, usually it's the women who're late."

She glared, "Just because it's your wedding day doesn't mean you can get away with that." She raised a finger, "After the ceremony, dear brother. Pistols at sundown!"

He raised an eyebrow, watching as she suddenly burst out laughing.

"I didn't have you fooled there, did I?" She asked.

"Not for a second." He replied amiably.

Dom knew where Erik was: He planned on waiting until the last second to come in so that Joelle wouldn't see who he was right away. The man had a rather offbeat sense of humor—Dom knew he'd fit in great with the family.

Those that counted, anyway.

Re: To live Again, a fanfic. (Felene)

Posted: 1:10:38 am on 5/23/2005

Modified: Never

Joelle was beginning to get a headache.

Today was too stressful. First she'd had to leave Erik without saying goodbye, then she'd had to stop Raoul from wearing a gigantic, frilly monstrosity of a hat (honestly, the thing was embarrassing, what had he been thinking?), then she'd had to talk Colette down from a nervous breakdown. After that she had done her hair for her, and then went to go change herself. Then Dom had lost his cufflinks and nearly bit someone, and she'd had to track them down, and make sure Papa didn't start drinking.

And now the best man was late.

"Where the devil is that thrice accursed man?" She growled, pacing.

"Right beside you." a soft voice replied.

The man listened for a moment, then offered her his arm. "Shall we? I believe we're on."

Joelle sighed and accepted it, shaking her head and mustering up a gigantic smile for the benefit of those assembled in the church as they started down the aisle.

Discreetly, she examined the Best Man out of the corner of her eye. He was tall, but not too tall; the top of her head was about level with his shoulder. He had midlength straight dark brown hair, worn attractively loose. His skin was pale and he had smooth, rather ordinary features, with a nice nose and high cheekbones. His eyes were—wait.

Golden eyes?

The only person she knew with eyes like that was…

"Erik?" She breathed, jaw dropping slightly.

He nodded and winked, placing a finger to his lips for a second.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, mister!" She hissed.

"Later." He whispered, casting a significant glance to the side.

"Oh!" She remembered where they were.

"It's ok." He whispered, laying his other hand over hers on his arm. "Breathe. Now smile."

She stared for another moment, then, for some reason, found the whole situation hilarious and restrained her laughter.

A genuine, loving smile spread over her face, and her eyes danced with laughter. She squeezed Erik's arm affectionately.

He smiled down at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement as well.

When they parted at the end of the aisle, which had somehow suddenly become far too short, their eyes locked on each other from their positions.

As awareness slipped away, as she drowned in his eyes, Joelle wondered idly why he'd ever worn a mask. Something didn't make sense here…

* * *

In the pews, Christine was getting worried. Who was that man and why did Joelle look at him like that?

Didn't she love Erik?

He'd be devastated if he found out!

She looked over at Raoul, who didn't seem too concerned.

"Raoul!" She whispered.

"Hmmm…?"

"Who's the best man, and why's Joelle looking at him like that?"

"Nothing to worry about."

"You know who it is?"

He nodded. "I'm sworn to secrecy, but I can promise you it's nothing to worry about."

Christine sighed, "If you say so, Raoul."

-------------------------------------------------------

Dom grinned when he saw the looks passing between his sister and Erik.

'Well,' he thought, 'I think we all know now whose marriage we'll be attending next!'

He had wondered what Joelle's reaction the 'surprise' would be, but it seemed promising.

However, he also knew that both he and Erik would most likely be in for some choice words later.

According to Raoul, her temper was far more formidable than before.

Thus the impressive wound on his face. Amusingly enough, Christine had covered it with makeup (Yes, he did plan on rubbing that in later…).

Then Colette appeared, and all thoughts, at least all coherent thoughts, ceased.

She was gorgeous.

Stunning.

Why the hell was this goddess marrying him?

Colette's dark red hair curled around her face, secured loosely with glittering gold and emerald and gold and diamond pins.

Joelle must have helped her with it. His sister's careful handiwork was obvious.

Colette looked like some shining angel in her long white gown. The gold workings gleamed, complimenting her tan skin and crimson hair.

Her green eyes glowed like emeralds in the sun, bright with love and unshed tears.

The rest of the world faded away as the priest spoke the timeless words of the marriage ceremony, finally coming down to a question that he was more than ready to answer.

"Do you, Domenic Alierre Napoleon Etienne take this woman to be your wedded wife; to love, honor, and cherish her for richer or for poorer, in sickness or in health, forsaking all others so long as you both shall live?"

"With all my heart, I do."

The priest nodded, "And do you, Colette Marie Stéver, swear before god that this is your wedded husband, to love him, honor and obey him, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health forsaking all others so long as you both shall live?"

"I… I do." She replied breathlessly.

"As old as time, signifying eternity, you shall now exchange rings as a token of your union."

And so the rings were brought forth.

The priest continued, "And now as you exchange these rings, speak these words: 'With this ring, I thee wed'."

Hands trembling, they did so.

"With this ring, I thee wed."

The priest took their hands and joined them. "Before God and your Kin, I now pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may now kiss the bride."

Dom did so immediately, holding Colette close. Before they parted, he whispered "I told you everything would be ok, my love."

"I love you." She sobbed.

----------------------------------------------------------

Soon after the ceremony, two cloaked figures met in an empty confession booth.

"Erik, darling, you have some explaining to do." Joelle whispered, taking his hands.

He sighed in relief, "I was afraid you'd be angry with me."

"No. You must have had a reason."

"I wanted to surprise you."

She chuckled, "You succeeded!"

"I know."

"So you and Dom planned this?"

"Yes."

"No mask?"

Erik looked down. "'Tis but a mask of a different sort." He guided one of her hands up and placed it on his right cheek, the one usually covered by the mask, "That isn't real Joelle. It feels real, and it looks real, and I can feel you through it, but it's really just another mask."

"Oh…" Transfixed, she traced his features.

"This, my dear, is how I would have looked if I had been born without the deformity that forces me to wear a mask. What do you think?"

"It's just another part of who you are: the masks, the face you hide; your insecurities, your strengths. It's all you, and I love you. I'm happy to be with you on the surface, but I was happy under the opera house too, because I was with you. You should know, Erik, that nothing you say or do and nothing that you show me could ever make me stop loving you. I love everything you are."

With a finger under her chin he angled her face up a bit, then kissed her until she sagged against him.

As she clung to him, utterly stunned, regaining her breath, he whispered, "And I love you too, my Joelle." In her ear.

She held him even tighter, suddenly shaking like a leaf. "T..tell me this isn't a dream, please? Tell me I won't wake up and you'll be gone!" She begged.

He stroked her back, "Shh…It's not a dream. I'll always be here if you want me to be. I love you, and I won't let you forget it."

She laughed, "Forget? How could I forget it? It's all I've dreamed of since I met you!"

Erik buried his face in her hair. "I never quite realized how lucky I was: In relinquishing silver, I have found gold."

Joelle couldn't speak for a moment. "S…so you really love me? Though I am impulsive and wild and hardly a proper lady?"

"What need have I for propriety?" He smiled. "You know me."

"We should probably go to the reception soon." She murmured. "People will start to wonder if we never arrive."

"You're probably right." He nodded. Erik held out his arm, as he had earlier. "Will you be my lady tonight?"

"And forever after." Joelle took it.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He agreed.

"One more kiss…? Before we go, I mean."

"With pleasure." He chuckled

-------------------------------------

"I wonder where your sister is." Colette remarked.

Dom smirked over his wineglass. "I'm sure she and the best man will be arriving shortly." He replied.

Her eyes widened, "So he's the reason she's been running off all the time?"

He nodded, "Yes, and it's a good match. I couldn't be happier about it."

"Really? No overprotectiveness? No scaring the prospective husband away?"

"No. He's a good man. The one who saved us back in December, in fact."

"Really?" She stared, "Well how come Joelle never told us that?"

"Erik is a modest man, and prefers not to be gossiped about. Besides, he's very shy. I suspect he simply wanted to avoid the notoriety."

"That makes sense. So how serious are they?" She asked.

"Well you saw them catch the bouquet and garter. Without even trying to! I wouldn't be surprised if they were engaged by the time spring rolls around."

"Well good for her, then!"

Just then, the couple arrived, Joelle looking thoroughly kissed. Their eyes were bright and they walked dangerously close to one another. Family members exchanged knowing looks.

Christine looked concerned, Dom noted. Raoul looked smug.

He wondered if Raoul knew it was Erik that Joelle was with.

---------------------------------------------------

"Are you sure this is nothing to worry about, darling?" Christine whispered.

"You'll see. Why don't we go say hello?"

"Alright…"

Joelle smiled at them when they came over, "Oh, hello Christine, Raoul. I believe you've met my date."

"Nice to see you again Christine. Surprised to see me?" He winked.

Christine stopped dead, all color draining from her face. "E..Erik?"

He nodded.

"Cleans up nice, doesn't he?" Joelle gushed.

Christine's mouth flapped open and closed.

Joelle snickered. She glanced over at Erik. "You're right, this was a good idea."

Erik smirked. "I'm certainly enjoying the reaction."

"It's nice to be on the inside of a joke for once." Raoul admitted, "Rather than the target."

"I'm in a good mood right now, so I'll leave that one be." Joelle drawled. "For now." She added, grinning. She looked over, "Ooh, the band is playing! Come on, Erik, let's dance, I bet you're great on the dance floor!"

He gave Raoul and Christine a semi-apologetic shrug, "Duty calls." He said, hurrying off after Joelle, leaving Christine shell-shocked and Raoul suddenly realizing Joelle's implied jab.

"Hey!" He cried.

Christine tilted her head, jaw still dropped nearly to the floor.

Raoul watched his cousin and rival dance. "It looks like they really do love each other." He remarked sadly. "Oh hell... this means I'll be related to him by marriage!" He looked disgusted.

"I...Never thought..."

"What, Christine, never thought he'd move on and stop being miserable?" Raoul asked, "Because if you want him to be jealous of what we have then that means that, to some degree, you want him to still want you. You can't have it both ways, you know."

She nodded, "I know... it's just... I don't know if I'm ready to have him be a part of our lives, even just as a relative by marriage... I mean, we all thought he'd committed suicide because I'd turned him down. And then there's the fact that that obsession existed in the first place. You don't just get over those things right away. And I know we knew they were together, but seeing him up here just makes it more real. And it means I could run into him anywhere. Things are awkward."

"That's just something you'll have to deal with. And when he loved you, he always seemed to think of himself as below you. And you didn't seem to do anything to change that, no offense, but Joelle treats him like a man; makes him feel like the greatest man alive... the way you make me feel." Raoul paused. His eyes glowed. "I love you, Christine. You are my first, and my only true love."

"And I love you, Raoul."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but if you had chosen Erik, you could only ever have hurt him."

"What?"

"He worshipped you. That always implies that he saw you as above him. You never quite noticed. Joelle told him from the beginning that she adores him and thinks of him as her White Knight. Obviously, he's started to love her too."

"They do make a nice couple." Christine remarked.

"Disgustingly so." Raoul agreed reluctantly.

-------------------------------------------------

"They're still watching us." Erik whispered.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"It's definitely fun to confound her."

"Naughty naughty Phantom!" She teased.

"I'll admit it." He purred, "But I haven't heard any complaints out of you yet."

She sighed, and a dreamy smile spread across her face.

"What's on your mind, Jo, dear?" He whispered, pulling her closer to him.

"Promise you won't laugh?" She said seriously.

"Alright."

She looked up into his eyes, "Well, darling, I was just…. remembering back at the wedding… daydreaming about walking down the aisle, you waiting for me there, at the end, saying those words… Well, except for the 'obey' part, because we both know that would never work… but just think about it; our souls and bodies bound together, husband and wife forevermore." She blushed, suddenly looking her young age, so innocent and sweet. "B…but I'm probably scaring you, talking like this. A lot of men run from commitment."

He pulled her against him, and they stopped for a moment, Joelle nestled snugly against his chest, head resting trustingly in the hollow of his shoulder. For a moment, the music was silent. It was just them, just Erik and Joelle, alone. The world slipped away.

"I love the thought of being your husband." He replied. "I love the thought of waking up to you every morning, of your voice being the first and last thing I hear every day. I love the thought of being with you every second, perhaps raising our children someday. I love the very thought of these things so much that I cannot fully convey it to you. But most of all, I love you, Joelle. Someday, when the moment is right, when we are both ready, I will ask you that question, and I hope you will make me the luckiest man alive."

She sniffled, "I think you know I will."

"That definitely helps."

--------------------------------------------------------

Dom and Colette watched the two figures standing on the dance floor, wrapped in each other's arms.

"They certainly look happy."

Dom started, turning, "Yes, father, they are."

Lyle sat beside his son and new daughter in law. He sighed, "I'm glad she's finally smiling again. For real, I mean. Are you sure he's loyal? Trustworthy? Will he take care of her?"

"Yes to all, Papa. He's a good man."

"I'll have to talk to him. To make sure. I won't let just anybody marry my little flower." He said.

"Not so little anymore, Papa." Dom reminded him.

"Yes," Lyle admitted, "She's grown so much. She looks like her mother." He sighed, "I just hope she chose her love as well as you have." He smiled at Colette, who blushed. "You needn't be so nervous, Ma petit. You're among family." He soothed. "And you, son." He said, "Take good care of Colette, I don't want you to realize how important she is to you too late."

"I will." Dom replied."

"I'm proud of you, son. You've grown up to be quite a man."

"Thank you, Papa."

He looked out at the man holding his daughter again. "And you approve of him?" He asked again.

"Completely."

Lyle nodded.

------------------------------------------------------

From his vantage point in the trees, Rojer was very angry. It was disgusting the way that man touched Joelle, the way she melted against him, the trust that hung between them.

"What are you doing with that man, Joelle?" He muttered.

He turned back to the small group of men he'd taken with him.

"Alright, when I give the signal, we ambush. Kill whoever you want and take whatever trinket or girl takes your fancy. Take the bride herself, for all I care. Or the groom if that's what does it for you. But that one's mine. And I want to be the one to kill her man-whore as well." He commanded.

* * *

Heh, I'm gonna leave that a cliffie for now.

Tell me what you think about the wedding because I was a little iffy on my depiction.


	10. Wedding Crashers

To Live Again 10

Sigh I don't have any witty remarks this time.

Usually I do, but not now, because I know I left it at a cliffhanger before and I'm just gonna continue this now. Also, heads up, I'm planning on making this a trilogy, and TO LIVE AGAIN is just the first installment.

As usual, to Adam and Heather.

Every song seemed to melt into the next as they danced, until Rojer's vision was obscured by a crimson mist of rage.

That man was far to close to his little songbird.

Nobody should touch her like that.

Nobody but him.

Joelle was HIS!

HIS!

He bit his lip until blood coursed down his chin as he saw the couple drift over to the punch.

The man, whoever he was, gave an admittedly graceful bow and seemed to insist on getting her punch for her.

Rojer expected her to be annoyed, but instead, she blushed prettily, something she didn't do often, being more wild and independent than most ladies.

Annoyance gnawed at him, and he restrained a growl. Why was she never like that with him?

She couldn't have known this man more than a few months, and she was being more agreeable and sweet with him than with her intended, namely; him.

The cold drink in the warm air made sweat bead on the glasses. He saw Joelle reach up to brush a drop off the stranger's bottom lip, the smile, blushing again, and then their lips met. Again!

He could take it no more. Forget timing, forget planning!

This interloper was kissing his woman and nobody touched Rojer's property!

"Attack." He hissed, wiping away the blood trail down his chin and drawing his sword, leaping down from his perch to weave through the trees in order to attack the man who held his girl directly.

-------------------------------------------------------

Erik set his glass on the table, letting his other arm slip around Joelle's trim waist. He looked down into her eyes and saw that they were unusually bright, lit from within with an emotion unfamiliar to him, though some part of him found it vaguely familiar. Her lips were reddened slightly from the kiss and her cheeks were pleasantly flushed. The sun glinted off her ebony hair and warmed his skin. He couldn't remember ever being so happy.

It was a simple pleasure, holding the woman he loved in the sunlight, surrounded by flowers and family, but so many men took it for granted, what was so precious to him.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Joelle asked.

He shook his head, "Just the day, and the sun and you. Not necessarily in that order."

She smiled, "I love you."

"And I you, my dear." Something sharp jabbed him in the back.

"Step. Away. From. The. Girl." A voice said from behind him.

Another feeling gripped Erik, one he hadn't felt in a good while: Fear.

"Now!" The man continued. Erik recognized the voice; Rojer had returned. "Hands up, scum."

Slowly, he acquiesced, "Don't hurt her." Erik breathed.

"Oh, I don't intend to hurt her." Rojer assured, "In fact, I mean to wed her"

"I'll do whatever you want, just let him go." Joelle whimpered. "Please... if you have any love for me at all, spare him!"

Rojer turned Erik roughly around, "Oh, I don't intend to kill him. Yet. No, first he'll suffer for every time tonight I've seen him touch you. Then longer for every time I think he might have touched you." A wicked smile spread across the handsome face. "And a whiplash for every kiss, and for every kiss that might have been." He poked Erik in the chest with his sword. "So you see, my love," He laughed, looking at Joelle, "I won't be letting him go for a very long time. Maybe, once he's been properly broken, I'll let you keep him as a pet!" His laughter increased, "Oh yes! But he'll have to be neutered first, can't have naughty puppy touching daddy's toys!"

Joelle's face went dead white, "You bastard..."

Erik glared and drew the sword he'd taken, just in case. "I think not." He said coldly, the mention of the whip stirring up old memories and old angers.

"Oh, so you want to fight, little boy?"

"Little boy? I'm older than you." Erik replied disgustedly.

"He's insane, Erik, ignore what he says." Joelle advised.

-------------------------------------------------------

The men fought, and Joelle looked around in panic, noting the chaos around them. Her family had their own battles to fight, and she knew Rojer wouldn't fight fair.

'I have to do something!' she thought.

Sure enough, she soon saw Rojer's hand disappear into his coat. She knew she wouldn't have time to warn Erik, so with a loud cry, she grabbed the first item her hand landed on and brought it crashing down on Rojer's head!

Her vision went hazy and she was aware of a horrible crashing noise and the feeling of little things stabbing into her hands. Vision returning, she looked down at her hands and saw that they were riddled with glittering shards of crystal and dripping blood. She looked down at Rojer and saw the remains of the giant, expensive crystal punchbowl laying on the ground and blood gushing from Rojer's head. She was suddenly aware of a sore, tingly feeling in her arms from the wrists up. The, looking at Erik, she felt the world slip away in a most unusual feeling as the ground surged up to her face before complete blackness overwhelmed her.

Erik was confident, fighting that insane young upstart, that he would win. Suddenly, Joelle came out of nowhere and bashed Rojer in the head with the massive crystal punchbowl he'd seen earlier. The man went down easily, and Erik saw a dagger roll out of his hand...which rolled out of his vest!

He realized Joelle had just saved his life.

He looked over at her, realizing that the amount of adrenaline required for such a tiny woman to lift such a large thing and maneuver it downward with such heft would surely be detrimental. Her delicate hands dripped with blood and she swayed on her feet, all color leaving her. He jumped to catch her, and was suddenly aware of the sounds of battle dying down behind him.

He turned around. Most of the pirates, for pirates they must have been, had either been beaten, or had run off. Dom and his formidable father were just tying up the last of them. Erik carried Joelle to one of the now-empty tables, and lay her down on it, lifting one of her hands to carefully remove the sharp crystal shards. He was so focussed on this task that he didn't notice Raoul come up behind him.

"What happened?"

Erik jumped at the sound of the voice, wheeling around angrily. His rage at being distracted dissipated swiftly when he saw his former enemy. Raoul's normally impeccable outfit was torn and some gashes showed through. A long, thin slash mark ran down his right cheek. His lip was split and bleeding and a bedraggled Christine hung on his arm, eyes wide.

Erik sighed, "Rojer came and made some rather rude comments, and treated Joelle as if she were property, so we fought. Rojer would have pulled the same underhanded maneuver on me that nearly killed Dom, had Joelle not smashed a punchbowl over his head. I think he still might be alive, but I was more concerned about Joelle at the time. She was running on pure adrenaline at the time, so she passed out fron shock and exhaustion." He smoothed Joelle's hair lovingly. "I think she'll be alright, but I need to get the shards out of her hands. And what happened to you?"

Raoul blushed. "That brute tried to take Christine. I couldn't let that happen." He looked down, "Not again." He muttered.

Erik nodded distractedly, "Good, good. Alright. Why don't you go help Monsieur Etienne and Dom tie up the remainder of the villains."

--------------------------------------------------------

Dom gave the rope an extra tug, causing the captives to protest. "Oh shut up." He scolded, "You deserve much worse than this for crashing my wedding."

Colette nodded, still trembling behind him.

"Who do you work for?" Lyle demanded.

"I think you know." One of them says. "He's probably gone with his pretty little wench by now."

The two men were stunned, felt they should have seen it coming.

"They're wrong."

They looked over. Raoul and Christine approached. "Joelle beat down her own demons." Raoul said softly. "Erik's taking care of her."

"Is she ok?" Lyle asked immediately, worried for his youngest child.

"Just unconscious... Shock, mostly, and Erik's getting the shards out of her hands." Raoul assured.

"Shards?"

"Apparently she broke a punch bowl over the jackass's head."

Dom looked impressed. "Always knew she had it in her."

"Show me where they are." Lyle insisted, "I need to see my daughter."

So Raoul did. For a moment, they were unnoticed and Lyle observed the scene silently. The young man, Erik, held Joelle's hand as gently as if it was made of glass as he wrapped it in strips of fabric torn from the once pristine white tablecloth. Her other hand had obviously already received similar treatment.

Lyle felt his heart warm as the man kissed Joelle's tenderly, then touched her cheek, looking at her as if she were the world's most precious treasure, which, in Lyle's eyes, was true.

"So you're Erik." He said softly, shattering the moment.

The man nodded, looking suddenly nervous. "I am." He replied, then his eyes went back to Joelle's face. After a moment, he continued, "You are blessed to have such a daughter." He remarked.

Lyle smiled, "That I am. I'm glad you can see that."

"She saved my life." Erik informed him, "I was trying to save her, but I forgot that the man I fought was by no means honorable. So she saved me. And now look at her." He sighed, touching Joelle's cheek again, "This shouldn't have happened."

"No, son, it shouldn't have." Lyle agreed.

Erik looked at him, fear entering his eyes.

"None of this should have happened." He clarified, "This should have just been a beautiful day to look back on and you and I should have met under better circumstances."

The other man brightened a little, but the wary look remained.

"I can see that you love my daughter, though, and, if you decide you want to marry her, you have my blessing, if only for what I see today."

"I should have protected her better." Erik insisted.

"She's not the type girl who would be content with that." Lyle consoled, "Trust me, her mother was the same way. Just hold her when she awakens. Be there." He sighed, "I tried to protect her too, son, but look what happened there! Kidnapped under my very nose from her room. I'm told I have you to thank for her rescue, and you have my eternal gratitude."

------------------------------------------------------------

It was a little odd to be called 'son' by a man who was only about ten years older than he was, but, Erik reflected, Lyle hardly had any way of knowing that, and the mask showed a younger face than his fifty years. Insecurities were harder to keep down without Joelle's reassurance, but he battled with his nerves for her. After all, this was her father, someone important to her. Then her remembered the mask again, and a smile crossed his face: There was no ing deformity in view, for the mask made him look human, normal, almost worthy of Joelle.

"Perhaps we should take her home?" Erik suggested tentatively, looking around, "I think this party's over."

Lyle nodded, "Yes, let's. Dom, best wishes for your honeymoon, Erik and I will take your sister home."

The man's grin at Erik was a little mischievous as he continued, "The carriage ride will give us a chance to get to know one another.

Erik gulped.

------------------------------------------------------

That's all for now.

I have my doubts about this chapter, so please be merciful.


	11. Softer Moments

To Live Again 11

Dedicated to Gentlewoman, TheNewMargarita, and, of course, wanderingchild.

Where would I be without you, my lovely, loyal readers?

Erik held Joelle in his arms as they sat in the carriage, determinedly meeting Lyle Etienne's eyes.

It took all of his self-control not to flinch under the other man's intense scrutiny. Finally, Lyle broke the silence.

"So Dom says you live beneath the Opera House." He said conversationally.

"Huh?" Erik was caught off guard.

"Yes, the Opera House. Not that that's so terrible, in comparison to some of her other suitors." Lyle reflected, "They come from far and wide you know, and there was this one man who claimed to have lived in a rather large cave."

"What?"

"But Dom says your... unusual dwelling is rather nice, if a bit elaborate. I have concerns, though."

Nervousness swelled up. "What are these...concerns, Lord Etienne?" He managed to ask politely.

"My daughter is like a bird, a creature of sunlight and open air. They found that out the hard way at the convent. She's like her mother, in that respect."

"Oh, well you see, I have a plan for later. The place under the Opera House was only... for bachelor life, you see." He was relieved to have come up with an answer, and an honest one, so quickly.

"Good, now, Monsieur Noir, Erik, if I may, I really must ask you: What are your intentions with my daughter? She doesn't deserve a man who only wants to play."

Erik was momentarily surprised by the man's bluntness. "Huh? I... Of course not, I mean I..." He stopped, sighed, "I love your daughter." He said, after a moment, "I plan on marrying her and moving out to a rather nice house I have set aside in the country. When this matter with Rojer is settled, of course."

Lyle nodded, grudgingly approving, "He is in the hands of the law now." Lyle sighed, "He had us all fooled. He was practically part of our family, but all this time, he was hurting Joelle... my little girl... right under my nose... How could I not see it?"

"Um..."

Lyle locked eyes with the uncomfortable Erik, "Promise me something, son."

"Eh..."

"Promise me you'll protect her. At all cost, keep her safe... as I could not..." Lyle pleaded.

"I—" Erik began, but was cut off,

"I need to know that she'll finally be safe." Lyle went on.

"I swear." Erik replied solemnly, "For my sake as well as hers. I could not stand to see her hurt."

Lyle nodded, "Thank you."

The man suddenly looked so much older than Erik had ever seen him, "I failed them." He confided, weary, "My wife, my daughter... I lost my Oriana... I could have lost my baby girl..."

Erik nodded, uncomfortable again, "Erm... yes. Joelle told me about what happened once. At one point, she seemed rather set on naming her first daughter Oriana."

"Oh? What did you say?"

"I said it was a lovely name, but at the time I didn't understand the significance. She didn't say it was her mother's name."

"They were very close, my girls." Lyle mused, "Ellie's the living image of her mother. I'll show you the portrait of them together later."

"I'd like that."

-------------------------------------------------------------

'Amazing,' Erik thought as he lay Joelle carefully in her bed. 'Everybody loves her here. I shouldn't be so surprised, though. She seems to have had a better childhood than I did. Most of the time.' He trailed his finger down her cheek.

'So lovely. What did I ever do to deserve you, little one?'

Carefully, he removed the makeshift bandages on her hands and rinsed them carefully in a basin of slightly warm water the maid had brought, then lovingly dried then, applied the provided salve, and carefully wrapped them again in the soft linen bandages.

'He'll never hurt you again.' He promised again, kissing the now-bandaged hands lightly.

"You might as well stay for awhile." A voice said from the doorway.

Erik looked up, surprised to see Raoul.

"When did you come in?"

"Christine and I arrived not long ago, and I knew you'd be here. You were very careful with her." He observed.

"I love her." Erik reminded him.

Raoul nodded, "I know. I'd have skinned you alive if I thought you were lying about that."

Erik raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Raoul continued, "Anyway, you two seem right for each other. I said as much to Christine earlier, believe it or not. You know, you're not such a horrid fellow when you're not trying to kill me and abduct the love of my life."

"Thanks?" Erik said, "And I guess you aren't quite as hopeless as I thought you were."

"I was, some time ago, but I've grown up, and I'd like to think I'm a better person for being with the woman I love." Raoul admitted.

"I never thought I'd say this, De Chagny, but perhaps, in time, we could be friends." Erik mused.

"I'd like that." Raoul agreed, "And I think it would make the women in our lives very happy. They seem to have bonded."

"Funny turn of events there." Erik quipped.

"Truly." Raoul concurred, "It's going to be odd, though. Not hating each other, I mean."

Erik nodded, chuckling, "Ah well, perhaps we could do battle again in the future. Of the non-lethal variety."

"You mean for fun?" Raoul's eyes widened, surprised.

"Joelle mentioned you play cards."

"She would." He mused, "I'm actually not so terrible at it."

"She said you were one of the few people who could beat Dom." Erik informed him. "She spoke of you a bit when she found out about our truce. Seemed determined to get me to like you."

"Christine did the same thing."

"I think we've been conspired against." Erik realized.

"Clever minxes."

"Indeed." Erik drew the covers gently over Joelle's shoulders. Raoul couldn't help but smile at the unexpectedly tender side of his former enemy.

"Have you ever noticed that whatever you thought your life was, it could change in a single instant?" Raoul asked thoughtfully.

"It's been known to happen." Erik replied distractedly.

"Not even a full day ago, we were only grudgingly tolerating each other." He continued. "And now? Nearly friends, no longer the bitter enemies we were!"

"Rojer hurt Joelle, he's my enemy now. He deserves to die painfully for every second of pain he caused her."

"On that, we are in agreement." Raoul stated.

"But I don't want to kill anymore." Erik said, "I don't want anymore blood on these hands... these hands I touch my Angel with."

Raoul smiled, "So she is your angel now."

"There will never be another."

"Like I said, you are welcome to stay. Uncle Lyle isn't really in a state right now to talk. He gets like this sometimes, since... well, you know..."

Erik nodded.

"He wanted me to tell you that, though. Consider it. I know it would mean a lot to her, to have you here." Raoul said over his shoulder as he exited.

Erik kissed Joelle lightly on the lips; "I'm not going anywhere, my dear." He promised, sitting on the bed beside her.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Joelle awoke to the feeling of warm sunshine on her face and warmer arms around her.

She was vaguely aware of a dull, throbbing ache in her hands.

Suddenly she remembered the previous day's events and her eyes opened immediately.

She was infinitely relieved to see that it was Erik who held her.

Then it dawned on her.

Erik.

Here.

Real.

In the sunlight beside her.

She drank in the sight of him lying there, fast asleep with his face lying on the pillow beside her.

Tears filled here eyes and she blinked them back, determined to commit the sight to memory.

There he was, her love, real and here.

He did not disappear like a shadow in the sun.

He still wore the same outfit as yesterday, mussed as if he hadn't left her side for a second, even to change.

His dark brown hair was tousled and fell over his face/mask.

He had never looked more perfect to her.

Infinitely moved she snuggled closer, reaching over to gently move the hair from his face, and closed her eyes, kissing his cheek tenderly. "I love you so much, Erik." She breathed.

"Mmmmm... 'Morning, Angel." He murmured.

She opened her eyes again, to find him looking back at her, a small, contented smile on his face.

She blushed, "Sorry to wake you, luv."

"If I could forever wake up to that, I would be a happy man." He said, "And I love you, Joelle."

She sighed, snuggling close to him again, "How do you always know exactly what to say to make me melt inside?" She asked softly.

He chuckled, "Ah, now that would be telling, my dear."

"Did yesterday really happen?" She asked.

"Yes."

"So much good and bad, all at once..." She murmured.

"Shh... Try not to think about it, darling."

"What should I think about?" she asked.

He smiled, kissing her neck softly, "Think about showing me you garden today. Just you and I, and the flowers that you love, like we planned. Think about that, Joelle."

"I love you."

"I know."

---------------------------------------------------

Christine sighed happily, ticking her husband's bare shoulder.

"You were my knight in shining armor last night, Raoul." She whispered.

He smiled, "He was trying to take you away."

"I know. But you never let it happen."

"Never again." Raoul breathed, "Once was enough."

"More than enough." She agreed. "But I think that pirate's intentions were less honorable."

"Certainly. But I can't say I blame the man for wanting to carry you off and ravage you. You're so lovely the poor fool didn't stand a chance!" He grinned, "But ravishing you is my job."

"And you do it very well..." She purred, "Speaking of ravishing..."

"I like the way you think."

Neither was seen until much later...

-------------------------------------------------------

Erik stared at the Eden surrounding him. "Incredible." He said, "You did this all yourself, Joelle?" He asked.

Joelle shook her head, "No. When I'm in the garden, I'm never alone." She replied, "My mother's spirit is all over here."

He nodded, "You two were very close." He observed.

"More than words can say. I wish you could have known her."

"If she's as much a part of this place as you say, I think I already do, to some extent."

Joelle hugged him.

A warm breeze swirled merrily around them, like another set of arms.

Joelle gasped softly, "Oh!" She raised wide eyes to meet his, "I think she likes you!" She grinned.

"I'm glad." He said, slightly nervous by the sudden presence he felt.

Joelle was right.

It was everywhere.

After a few moments, the fear slipped away. Peace replaced it.

He was engulfed by a feeling of loving acceptance in the warm, sweet-smelling air, as if someone else truly was there.

And that someone else was very happy.

"I think I understand why you love this place so much." He said later, sitting on a bench next to the harp fountain she'd told him of days ago.

She smiled mischievously and tucked a daisy into his hair. "Told you." She said lightly.

A flash of silver on her neck caught his eye. "What's that?" He asked.

She lovingly drew out a rose shaped pendant. "It's her locket." Joelle confided, "I found it here."

Twisting a clever hidden clasp, she opened the flower. Inside was a tiny, exquisite miniature of a gorgeous woman holding a tiny little boy and girl on her lap. Joelle smiled tenderly down at the picture.

"That's us." She whispered. "Dom and me, and Mama." She traced the edges of the picture lovingly, "I've never showed this to anyone." She said, "This was my confirmation. My sign." She sighed, "My sign from Mama that everything would be ok. That it was right... That we were right..." She blushed, "But I probably sound like an idiot."

"I think you sound adorable." He assured her, kissing her lips softly.

"Good god! Do you two ever come up for air?" Came a teasing voice.

Joelle laughed, "Oh, like you should talk, Raoul! Abed until the afternoon and I KNOW you two weren't sleeping!" She teased.

"Joelle!" Christine chided.

"Oh, don't sound so scandalized Christine! It was probably your idea." She quipped.

Erik snickered behind his hand as the couple went bright red.

"Oh cut it out, 'Phantom'." Raoul snapped.

"Heh."

"Do I need to separate you two?" Joelle scolded.

Both men grinned playfully at her, "No Ma'am, we'll play nice." Raoul replied.

"You see we've found a new object of murderous rage." Erik said cheerfully.

"Only you could say that as if it were normal, Erik." Christine sighed.

"Well, let's look on the bright side." Joelle said, "They're getting along, and the have a new hobby." She said brightly.

"But does it always have to involve murder?" Christine asked.

Erik and Raoul shrugged, "We could play chess?" Erik suggested.

"No, cards. I've heard how you play chess." Raoul said.

"I can't help it if I'm a mastermind."

------------------------------------------

There you go. Wadda ya' think of that? Raoul redemption! Sorry this wasn't as long as I thought, but I ended up having to cut this in half for continuity's sake. More soon, I promise!

Hope ya' like it, and again, you guys are the best!


	12. Cards and Male Dignity

To Live Again 12

Eh.. sorry I'm late...

"So this is Oriana." Erik stared.

The portrait was a massive depiction of mother and daughter. Joelle looked to be about ten, adorable in a white summer dress embroidered with little blue flowers. She was like a miniature version of her mother.

Oriana Danae Etienne was a gorgeous woman, with hair like her daughter, silken shadow which curled perfectly around her face. Her eyes were a darker blue, shimmering with a clever wit. Her smile, the little tilted grin Joelle often wore, was positively captivating, and more than a little mischievous. Even in portrait form, the woman possessed a charisma, the type that stunned him so often from her daughter. This was definitely the presence that had surrounded him in the garden.

"The love of my life." Lyle murmured, "This is how I'll always remember her. That artist was a genius.

"So I see." Erik agreed, "Joelle certainly resembles her mother."

Lyle nodded. "She's a very special woman, my little girl. I hope you appreciate her."

"How could I not? For the punchbowl stunt alone, she'll have my undying respect."

"For awhile, I was so afraid she'd never find that old inner flame again, the one that always made her so fascinating. Even as a little girl, she had admirers."

"Thus the problem with Rojer."

"She's like her mother." Lyle remarked absently. "Even were she not so physically beautiful, that fire would keep 'em coming."

From the wedding, to the ride home, Lyle had changed. Then it dawned on him, with the wistful, pained expression on the other man's face as he looked upon a portrait that showed a more idyllic time.

Lyle was a man who lived on memories, Erik realized. For him, more so than Joelle or Dom, life was shattered that day six years ago.

It must be terrifying for a man to realize that he could not save his wife, and then further to realize that he could not even protect his own daughter.

Dom and Joelle were younger, more flexible emotionally.

They were marked, indeed, by this sorrow, but not destroyed by it.

But for the most part, Lyle was trapped in the past.

He loved his children, but without his other half, without the simple confidence in the safety of his own home, he was a broken man.

Erik felt a keen sense of pity for Lyle, aged so much more than the years between he and Erik.

If only he could stay in now, and see how things had changed.

Perhaps if he went in the garden?

True, the memory there was bad, for that was the place where the neat pattern of life before the tragedy was so brutally snapped.

But it was no longer a place of death, or even the simple place of quiet it had been before.

The garden was a place of healing, of solace.

It was a place of spirits and magic.

But, more importantly, it was a testament to the fact that Oriana had never truly left her family.

In that place, there would always be a part of the radiant woman with the mischievous smile, watching over her family.

Or waiting, perhaps, for the man who had never stopped loving her.

The portrait was more than a picture of a mother and daughter.

It was a still frame in time.

A frozen moment.

A piece of life that could never be recaptured.

It was life before the loss of innocence.

Before a forbidden glance stole Joelle's sense of security.

Before she got that sad, guarded look that came over her sometimes, when she felt alone, or vulnerable.

Before blood spilled in a place treasured by mother and daughter, both slaughtering and immortalizing the former.

'The human spirit,' Erik mused, 'Is a mysterious and wondrous thing. In the face of such a tragedy, different forms of humanity react in different ways. Some shut down, losing that spark of resilience. Some are kindled, becoming angry and bitter. But for the lucky few, it tempers them, like turning sand to glass in the fires of the kiln. Shadows of what was and what transpired may lay upon them still, but it all makes them who they are. Beautiful still for the sadness and the pain, and the strength that they acquire. You can never truly tell how each individual will react to a change. For me, I was nearly broken. I wondered, at times, if I truly had a soul to destroy. If a monster could have the parts of a man. The lines are blurred now, between past and present. So much has changed about my perception of mankind. Curiosity and fascination replace loathing and distrust. Pain has been replaced, if not completely, with love. For once, love was not hopeless, or painful, or futile.' He smiled wryly, looking into the eyes of Joelle's childhood countenance. 'Time changes all.'

How true it was.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Rojer heard the crashes and gunshots in the corridors of the prison and smiled. He sat back casually, waiting patiently until the door opened.

"So nice of you to come, Calvin." He said to the man that had opened it. "I was wondering what kept you."

The man nodded, sighing, "Well, I didn't have much choice. Are we even now, Rojer?"

"Nearly, there is merely a small matter in which I would like to enlist your aid…"

"With a price, old friend, always with a price."

-------------------------------------------------------------

"Not bad for a beginner." Raoul said, looking pensively down at his hand, "But I think you better save the celebration." He laid down his hand, smiling broadly.

Erik looked horrified, "I…lost?" He gaped, "To… to you?"

Raoul rolled his eyes, grimacing, "You know, you don't have to sound so surprised." He said, "It's kind of insulting."

Christine snickered. "Joelle warned you." She reminded Erik.

"How cold." Erik murmured in mock despair, "Oh Christine! Can't you spare a little pity for your Angel of Music?" He implored.

"Hey hey hey! Let's not go there!" Raoul protested, "It always ends badly."

"I quite agree!" Joelle snapped, slightly threatened by the secretive smiles exchanged by Erik and Christine.

"Feeling neglected, my love?" Erik's arms suddenly encircled her from behind. He smiled smugly as she melted back against his chest, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder. "You know you're the only one for me."

Joelle blushed, closing her eyes, "And don't you forget it, buddy."

"Ecccchhhhh!" Raoul groaned.

"Awwwww!" Christine disagreed.

"Back me up, Christine!" Raoul begged.

"I can't help it! They're so cute!"

Erik smirked at Raoul, who very maturely stuck out his tongue.

"Raoul, grow up," Joelle scolded, without opening her eyes, "And Erik, stop gloating, or I'll tell them your nickname. You know, the cute one because of your little smirks."

Erik blushed behind the lifelike mask, so much so that it showed through.

Christine snorted.

"Nickname?" Raoul raised his eyebrow.

"Weren't you boys playing poker?" Joelle asked.

"Don't spoil the moment, dear." Erik said, lavishing kisses along her throat.

Raoul made a disgusted noise.

Erik responded with a rather obscene hand gesture, not bothering to spare the other man a glance.

Christine giggled, "I love this!" She gushed, "Things are so interesting when we're all in the same room!"

"If it gets anymore interesting, we might be getting back to the bloodshed days." Joelle remarked, reluctantly slipping away from Erik, who gave her a mildly dejected look.

"Cuddles later, darling." She soothed.

He perked up.

"Oh for the love of god!" Raoul groaned, "Honestly, Joelle! Do you two have to be like that all the time?"

"You and Christine were, much to my displeasure." Erik replied, "Give me my moment."

"But she's my COUSIN! I don't want to see that." Raoul protested, "She's almost like a sister! Give me a break!"

"Let's take pity on him, luv." Joelle said gently, the glint in her eyes revealing her obvious enjoyment of Raoul's discomfiture.

"Alright." Erik slipped back to the table. "Deal it again, Raoul." He said, "And this time I'd like some GOOD cards, or you can expect a repeat of the previous scene to soothe my fragile ego."

Christine and Joelle both snorted at his last remark, and he gave them a scandalized look.

Raoul rolled his eyes, "Should I just forfeit now? It seems I lose either way. Which is the lesser of two evils?"

"Don't worry, honey." Christine soothed, "I've never seen Erik lose twice in a row."

"Am I being conspired against?" Raoul wondered aloud.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I admit, this is sort of a filler.

But hey!

Plot Development!

And I'll give something away: This is Rojer's last escape!


	13. Misconception

To Live Again 13

Eh.. Sorry this took so long… Hey, I'm another year older now, and I've finally pierced my ears. Oh, and some of you might not like this chapter, but be patient; I'm building something important here! And, in any case, we all know Erik has a temper. Does anyone recognize some of the lines? 

Days passed before the news of the jailbreak and Rojer's escape reached the papers, and when it reached the Manor, Joelle was not surprised; the man was damnably slippery.

However, the atmosphere around her home changed drastically: Raoul and Christine had begun to tail her, and Erik had began looming beside her every second like an overgrown bat, glaring at anyone he didn't recognize (and a few he did, but didn't trust.) . For awhile Joelle indulged them, but after her father's eighth panic attack and Raoul's third arbitrary lock-down, her patience was well and truly grated.

Walking down to the library, she heard three sets of feet following her. Finally snapping, she turned on her heel. "Alright. Enough! You know, I really do NOT need an escort everywhere I go!"

They stared at her, perfectly innocent looks on their faces, Erik even going so far as to tilt his head inquisitively.

Joelle sighed, "I know that you all mean well, but I do not need constant guarding. I am not afraid of Rojer…not now, in any case. He has a pattern, you see. After every thwarted strike, he goes into hiding for a bit, usually a month or longer. He's not the sort to strike twice in the same week. And in any case, now that he is no longer presumed dead, he's one of the most wanted men in France. He can't simply stroll in and take me as he tried before. And I am a grown woman; as much as I appreciate the sentiment, I need my space now and again."

At Erik's hurt look, she softened, cupping his cheek in her hand, "Darling, I love you, you know that." She kissed his lips lightly, tenderly, and continued, "But I grew up roaming the wild hills and running in the meadows. The forest was as much my home as the manor. For the past few years, necessity forced me into a well-meaning prison where I was attended by at least one person--usually more--and though it was sometimes pleasant, I needed my freedom! Please understand I need to be able to go where I will, visit friends around the manor and in the village, to ride Ula in the fields like I used to, to enjoy the burgeoning spring! I can't simply be cooped up under guard in a cage all day! If I can't live my life, the devil has won, now hasn't he?"

Erik sighed, "Be careful.?"

"Aren't I always, luv?"

A day later, morning dawned bright and lovely at the Etienne Manor. Joelle, dressed in riding clothes, stopped in front of her mare's stall, struggling with her bandaged hands to braid her unruly curls. Finding great difficulty with the encumbrance, she gave a small growl of frustration.

"Allow me." Haral's oddly crisp voice came from behind her. He guided her to a hay bale, where they sat down. He quickly and deftly finished the braid and tied it off, then moved to leave. Joelle caught his hand and he stopped, turning, and met her gaze with shameful ivy eyes. With a sigh, he obediently sank back down on the hay, but looked determinedly at the ground.

"How have you been, Haral? I haven't seen you for so long…" She began softly.

"Ah've seen yeh plenty. An' yehr man, too. Erik, was it?"

She nodded, "I've missed our talks very much, Haral." She admitted.

"'Ave yeh now?" He still didn't look at her.

"Please don't hate me, Haral." She murmured, "I never meant to hurt you." 

"Was et really thaht hopeless?" He asked despairingly, "Ah know ah'm poor, but…"

"That was never it!" Joelle interrupted him quickly, "You're a good man, Haral, such a good man, and if I had never met Erik, I'd probably be yours."

He finally looked up at her, sad eyes burning into hers, "D'yeh know 'ow 'ard it is Elly? Ah still love yeh!"

Guilt flared inside her. "Oh Haral!" She hugged him and he rested his cheek on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, my friend." She whispered.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Erik hurried to the stable; Joelle had mentioned going for a ride this morning and he wanted to steal a kiss before she left. When he reached his destination, he stopped dead.

There was Joelle, with the handsome stableman, Haral.

Their hands were joined.

Shock immobilized him, and he caught only snatches of their conversation:

".. Good man..Haral…I…never…Erik…I…yours." Snatches only, but what could be hiding in those empty spaces?

His heart dropped as Haral responded, "…. 'ard... Ah love yeh.."

"Oh Haral!"

Rage replaced shock and hurt as he saw them embrace, his Joelle whispering something to the other man.

Without a thought, he raced forward to confront his faithless lover and her lamentably handsome paramour. 

Regret and guilt warred in Joelle's heart as she tried to soothe her heartbroken friend.

He no longer had that old tempting effect on her; only Erik could melt her of late. She wished she could have asked him for advice before this had happened. He knew of the situation, of course; she could hardly keep something so important from him, though she felt it might be better if she dealt with it herself.

"So this is why you wanted to be alone!" Erik's cold words hit her like a slap in the face and, shocked, Joelle drew herself out of Haral's desperate embrace.

"What? Oh Erik! No! You can't think I…"

"Curse you!" He cried, grabbing her wrist and forcing her closer, so that she could not look away from his livid, half-insane face, "You little lying Delilah! You little viper! How could you do this to me?"

"Erik I would never! I lov—" 

Again, he cut her off, not even hearing her. "Damn you! You little demon! Why did I ever trust you? How could I think—even for a moment—that you ever really loved me? CURSE YOU! I should have never believed you! Why did you bother, if everything you said was a lie? WHY?"

Tears burned in her eyes, and his thin fingers dug into the flesh of her wrist. Her hand hurt, too. Joelle whimpered and tried to pull away. His rage was the most terrifying thing she'd ever seen. When did her tender lover turn into a madman? And still he yelled at her! His face began to peel at the corners, and his hand gripped her yet tighter. She gave an involuntary yelp.

"Erik! Please? Erik? you're hurting me!" She gasped, feeling the blood drain from her face.

In spite of his fury, her frightened, trembling little voice cut him off. Stopping dead, Erik stared at Joelle's pale, tearstreaked face, then glanced at the wrist he'd grasped. The bandages on her hand had blood seeping through, deep cuts reopened by the force of his furious grasp. New cuts were on her already scarred wrists from his careless nails and his hand was slick, sticky, covered with blood—Joelle's blood.

Joelle's blood was on his hand! 

Horrified, he let go immediately, staring at his hand in shock.

WHAM! A large fist connected with his face.

"Haral! No!" Joelle's voice screamed.

When the world stopped shaking and he opened his eyes, he saw her; little Joelle doing her best to restrain the massive, furious Scotsman. 

"Will? She cried, "Willem, help?

Erik felt his face?the mask, sliding off. Frantically, he held it on as her ran to Cesar, mounted, and rode like hell.

"ERIK!" An anguished cry filled his ears, "Don't leave me! I lov—" The voice faded as he got farther away.

Why would she call to him still? Unless? What if he'd been wrong?

Oh god? She'd told him before her regret; hurting her friend, breaking Haral's heart, and her desire to save the friendship!

He'd acted on suspicion, hurt sweet Joelle, his Angel in the heat of fury! 

His mask had been slipping off, as well… what if she'd seen?

Not that it mattered. 

He could never see her again.

Why did love always turn him into a madman?

At this point, he reflected, it was a good thing he didn't have much of a nose, for surely now it would be broken.

As it was, his face throbbed painfully.

Raoul heard his cousin scream and took off at a dead run to the stable. A man was restraining an identical man who looked furious. Joelle was collapsed on the ground, bleeding from her left hand and wrist and sobbing as though her heart was broken. "Come back, my love…" She whimpered, "Please don't leave me…"

"What the hell happened here?" 

That night, beneath the Paris Opera House, Erik scrubbed at his hand continuously. "Damn you! Why won't you come off? Why won't the stain leave me?"

Why did the blood of one woman, who was still alive, stain him so much worse than past murders?

_'because she was an innocent.'_ Said a small annoying voice_. 'Her only crime was in her compassionate heart. Ironically, that was what you loved most about her, wasn't it?' __  
_  
"The irony is not lost on me."

He glared at his reflection.

Hideous, he thought. 

Made only more so by the awful bruise. 

"Now I know how Raoul felt.?

_'__Yet again.' __  
_  
"Go away.? 

_'Hasn't everyone else already done that?' __  
_

"I'd like to reserve Box five for the next two weeks, please." Joelle said.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Asked one of the managers. Andre, she remembered.

"Yes," The other man agreed, "Madmoiselle, nobody has used that box since the…incident."

"You yourself saw the body." Joelle reminded him, "The Opera Ghost is dead."

"Yes, but superstition…"

"Is for fools." She said lightly.

"Very well. Here is your card."

"Mademoiselle," Andre said, "Are you sure you wish to sit there alone? You have been in considerable danger recently, and as we said…"

"I thank you for your concern, gentlemen, but I think it might be an adventure to meet the Opera Ghost. In fact, it is part of my reason for choosing that section."

They looked at her as if she were mad, "Very well… We will send someone to check up on you occasionally, though. Mme. Giry may be able to tell you more of him if you truly wish to know."

"Thank you. You know, I'm surprised you gentlemen stuck around." She remarked, "Many would have left."

"And admit defeat? Never!" Firmin looked outraged at the thought.

She smiled, "And whatever became of Carlotta?"

"She sings very little. Apparently she loved Signor Piangi very much and his death changed her drastically. Most of her parts are silent, and she rarely speaks to anyone. She stays because the Opera is all she knows."

"Perhaps I may speak to her later?"

"Certainly, Lady Etienne. And we are honored that you attend once again, but we must be going." 

Alone in Box Five, Joelle sat and looked around, "Please, Erik, come back to me." She whispered. 

"I'll always love you. God.. Why don't you trust me?"

Wait for it, the next chapter should be good, and if I can get on the computer (My little brother is hogging it for 'Runscape' whatever that is!) it should be soon!


	14. Not giving up on you

To Live Again 14

To my love who loves me not, and to my dedicated readers. 

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The curtain rose on a renewed production of Il Muto.

Colette's fill-in in the lead role sang admirably, and Carlotta played the role of Serafimo with aplomb.

A small smile touched Joelle's face as she remembered one of Erik's more long-winded rants at how horrible she was.

People could change: Carlotta was living proof.

Unfortunately, she was also a reminder of Erik's dark deeds.

'Human nature is capable of great good or great evil,' she thought, 'but an ill-deed, no matter how abhorrent, does not necessarily define a person.'

Which made her wonder about Rojer, who'd grown up with a bitter, abusive father, and a mother who'd run off with a gypsy when he was young.

How did these things shape the person he'd become?

If, in the name of love, she could overlook the deeds of one man, could she forgive the other?

Where was the line drawn?

When did an act become unforgivable?

She'd always seen her Erik as sort of a "tarnished Knight", shadowed and stained a little, but good at the core.

However, with the slightest suspicion, he turned on her.

She looked at her hands, covered by the innocent silk gloves, concealing the wounded wrists as well.

"He didn't mean it." She assured herself. "You saw him; he was horrified by his actions!"

'Which didn't stop him from committing those same actions.'

She wondered where that bitter thought came from.

It hit her, "I…I'm angry with him.? Joelle realized. "I never would have thought…but I am! How could he doubt me like that? How could he leave me?

She started with the realization that intermission was about to begin. 

Joelle heard a sharp intake of breath behind her and wheeled around. "Erik.? She breathed, looking him over longingly.

He wore his usual white mask again, and she could see a bruise spreading where Haral had hit him. His eyes were bloodshot, shadowed with dark circles, as if he hadn't been sleeping again.  
He met her eyes for one brief instant before backing away.

So she followed him back, back through the rapidly closing door in the pillar.

Through the silence in the blind darkness she heard him running and ran herself, following the sound of his footfalls to guide her in the inky blackness.

"Erik, stop! Please, just listen!" Joelle cried.

The sound of his flight grew fainter and fainter.

"DON'T LEAVE ME AGAIN!" the cry of pure anguish that tore from her throat surprised even her.

Desperately sprinting, she didn't hear him stop and she crashed into him, pulling them both down to the cold stone ground.

When it occurred to her what had just happened, Joelle clung to Erik like a lifeline. Weakly, Erik struggled, but he knew he didn't want to part from her any more than she from him.

Finally, the two figures held on to each other in the dark, silent.

As her eyes adjusted, Joelle touched Erik's thin cheek, "Oh Erik…" She kissed him gently on the lips.

The kiss deepened and neither noticed Erik's mask fall to the floor beside his face as lips parted and tongues dueled in an ageless dance of feeling.

But after a few short moments, Erik pulled away. Fighting down the feelings she awakened in him, he stood, looking down at her.

"Joelle, we have to stop this… this has to end…"

For a moment she just stared, horrified and dumbstruck.

Erik ached inside, 'I've hurt you again… Oh Joelle, don't you see?' he thought, 'this is why it has to end! I keep hurting you? your blood is still on my hands…can't you se it? I can't wash you off!'

When she finally spoke, her voice trembled, but her eyes blazed with pain and anger and love, "And?why is that, Erik? Is it because you can't trust the woman who loves you more than life? Because you're afraid? I've never given you any cause to doubt me." Tears flowed freely down her face now, but she continued, "God, Erik, was it all a lie? Were you lying when you told me you loved me? Love can't exist without trust and obviously I've never had yours. I gave you my soul, Erik; everything I am, and you tossed it away like a mistake!" Her voice lowered, and the sheer pain cut him up, "Was I really so terrible?"

He shook his head, "All I ever do is hurt you, Joelle," He said slowly, "And I cannot do that anymore." He turned and began to walk away. Over his shoulder, he called back, "I'll love you until the day I die, Joelle Oriana Etienne!" And he disappeared into the darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Crash 

Fwooosh

Crash 

Muffled curse 

"When did you learn to use a revolver?"

"Go away, Bevan, I'm not very good company right now."

"I can't. Not only am I, personally, worried about you, but Chera is too, and she can't come up now, being pregnant and all."

She growled, "Goddamn, does everyone know...?"

"Most." He replied, "And you know your parents wouldn't like to hear you talk like that."

She rolled her eyes, trying not to smile at his knowing tone. "Well, I can't really vouch for my mental state, but I'll live. You can leave now."

He looked hurt; "We used to be pretty good friends, you and I." He turned.

Immediately, Joelle took his hand, "Oh, Bevvie, I'm sorry, I'm just… not me right now."

"So I noticed." He replied wryly, "The Joelle I knew always thought a revolver was 'far too unsporting, and didn't require nearly as much finesse as a sling'. Isn't your father going to miss that pottery?"

She shook her head, "No, we were throwing it out; it's old, flawed, and we have newer, better pieces that go much more prettily with the decor. More suited to our lives, even if they're somewhat lacking in character."

Bevan sighed, "We aren't talking about the pottery anymore, are we..." 

Joelle shrugged, "We were talking about pottery?" she asked absently.

"Are you drunk?" He asked incredulously.

"Just a bit..." She admitted. "I wasn't out alone."

At his doubtful look, she continued, "I went with Tomas from the chorus. Nice guy, too bad he's a homosexual; I think daddy would have approved of him. Such a nice voice, too. Excellent range. Almost as good as— but that doesn't matter." Joelle trailed off, a slightly vacant look coming into her eyes, like a wall between the world and her heart.

"He really hurt you, didn't he, Ellie?" He asked gently.

She nodded dumbly, sinking to her knees

"You want him back..." He asked.

"I said such harsh things, Bevvie." She murmured, looking so much like a child that he swept her up into his arms.

"Tell me everything." He said, "And we'll come up with something." 

"…And he just left, Bev, and said he'd love me until he died. God, I wanted to die then, but then I'd be in hell 'cause I couldn't see him anymore. How could he just throw it away just because we hit a rough patch?" She finished.

Bevan felt a sharp pain in his heart to see an old friend so broken. He'd liked Erik when he'd met him at the wedding, though he didn't know him very well. But what he'd liked the best was the peace he'd put into his friend's eyes. He'd been happy to see Dom on his way to wedded bliss and wished the same for Joelle, his personal favorite of the siblings.

"He still loves you." He said slowly.

She nodded, "I hope."

"Well then, make him need you." Bevan said, inspired, "Make it so he needs you even more than he loves you; for now, anyway. When you've got him as hopelessly trapped as you do with most men, reel him in and talk him into marrying you. Not the most traditional way of marriage, but you've always defied convention."

"Are you telling me to seduce Erik?" She asked, mystified.

"The man won't know what hit him."

She nodded slowly, shock sobering her slowly; "I… shall have to write a letter to Christine. Hopefully, she and Raoul have reached their estate by now… and she knows what he likes."

Bevan chuckled, "And, if I may make a suggestion..."

She nodded again, "Well, you are a man—fire ahead."

"Wear something red, figure hugging," He said, "That shows of those-" He indicated her well-shaped, muscular legs, "And those," Her trim hips, "And of course, those." Her breasts. 

Joelle turned bright red.

"Yes," Bevan said thoughtfully, "Close to that color; it becomes you." 

She darkened even more and he laughed, "So does that, though, come to think it." 

"Oh, quit it." She said mock-sharply, "Or I'll tell your wife you've been eyeing me."

He simply gave her an impudent wink.

------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Erik was puzzled.

Joelle sat in Box Five, yet again, alone.

Yet her appearance was subtly more sensual, and he could detect a soft, alluring fragrance.

He had thought she would turn, hearing him, more than once, or at least suspecting his little spy-holes.

Yet there she sat, silently exquisite, as if she expected a man to come, without even seeming to think of anything but the admittedly well-done opera.

She disappeared during the intermission, and he couldn't find her, then returned, looking as calm as ever.

After the Opera House was emptied out of performers and customers, he sat in Box Five, contemplating. Joelle had worn a light, floaty rose-colored dress that, in the latest fashion, hugged the delectable curves of her body in a way that made his jaw drop, progressing down to a swishy skirt that went down to just above her ankles. (A/N you have to remember that during the 1880s, society was a lot more repressed, so the exposure of even one's ankles was considered very sensual, and, in some circles, a bit risqué)

Her hair was worn up, a few perfectly curled dark tendrils loose to frame her face.

She looked like an angel.

"How could she not know I was there?" He wondered aloud, "I know for a fact that I got sloppy near the end… I just wanted her to turn to face me, but she acted as if she heard nothing."

After awhile, he noticed a note, neatly folded, sitting on her seat. Curious, he picked it up.

_"Miss me yet, Erik..."_ It read,

_"As long as I live I will love no other. I'm not giving up, even if you are. I had a feeling my behavior would puzzle you, and you're probably sitting there trying to figure it out. This gives me time to leave a surprise for you at your home. Enjoy. Love always, Joelle."_

He shook his head; the woman was too clever, and yet she lacked simple self-preservation instincts. He'd given her her freedom: Why did she not fly away? Her writing was casual, almost amused, and it drove him mad to picture her there, pen in hand, and that sweet, mischievous half-smile as she wrote, hair wild and loose behind her like a dark halo. For surely she must have written it before coming—he hadn't seen her writing it, though, admittedly, he'd been somewhat diverted by that marvelous dress?

Wait. 

Surprise?

Oh Joelle, what have you done this time?

Hoping to catch her there, Erik hurried down.

The sight that greeted him shocked him more than he would be willing to let on at a later date.

The entire place was filled with flowers of all sorts: Roses, daisies, even a dangling wisteria. Water lilies floated in the lake. Erik's couches, coffin, bed, and chairs were covered with rose petals.

He saw a sign, in the middle of it all: "A petal for each time I've thought of you since you've left. I think even you would take forever to count them all, my brilliant love."

He shook his head--how did she manage this?

And why? No one had ever gone to such lengths for him.

Usually he did the wooing, and was rejected, but now someone had made an elaborate gesture of love for him.

And it was getting harder and harder to remain strong, and to remember that she deserved better, that this was for her own good.

Flowers? It smelled like her.

This was going to be a long night.

As he approached the sign, he saw a smaller notation at the bottom: _"Same time, same place, tomorrow night? Maybe you'll say something this time..." __  
_  
Those playful lines were so very her.

Erik groaned and collapsed in frustration on the couch.

"Can't you see I'm trying to save you?" He cried aloud, "I can't keep this up when you do things like this! I'm only a man, I only have so much strength of forbearance?

And still he heard her laughter in his mind and heart, light, faint, teasing.

And I think that's a good place to leave it off for now.


	15. Loving him

To Live Again 15

Warning! PG-16 for this chapter! Somewhat nonexplicit sex

Usual disclaimers apply, and will not be mentioned again.

Without further ado:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A sweeping aria filled the halls and she sat there, lovely and composed, appearing no more than an ordinary woman, albeit a beautiful one, to anyone who should look up to the "dreaded, cursed Box Five".

But if anyone in that theater had any idea what transpired for Joelle Etienne, they might be shocked.

Unless they knew her, for then, most likely, they'd find the situation hilarious: two people madly in love, one holding back for ridiculous, imaginary reasons; the other a usually tomboyish, atypical woman showing every cliched sign of a woman hooked and desperate, dolled up to maximum flirtiness in a way that might previously have had her either laughing her head off or coming up with some veiled, yet distinctly biting remark.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I know you're there, luv." She said without turning around; "You might as well come out and sit down."

Slowly he slipped out of the passage and sat beside her, still in awe of her altered appearance.

Tonight she wore a rich violet dress, similar in cut to the rose-colored one, but slightly more revealing in the neckline. Further attracting attention to this fact, she wore a necklace with a vivid drop-amethyst dangling right at her cleavage, glittering tantalizingly with every move; every shift of light.

Her hair was swept up gracefully, revealing her slim white neck. The vibrant color of the gown only served to turn her fair skin to alabaster perfection and melt her eyes to a misty indigo.

She smiled, polite, calm, even as she drove him mad—honestly, how many men now saw her like this? It simply wasn't safe for a lady of her beauty and wealth to tempt the weaker men like this!

"I trust I find you well..." She murmured lowly.

'Oh yes,' He thought, gaze sweeping over her once more. 'Very "well" indeed, unfortunately.' He swallowed hard, discreetly shifting his cloak. "As well as can be expected, mademoiselle." He managed to casually reply.

They passed the rest of the time in relative silence, scattered throughout with polite, formal conversation. When the Opera ended, he bowed, kissed her hand in a formally light, gentlemanly fashion and they parted with polite salutations.

The same happened the next day, and for a little over a week, and each day was harder for him.

All of this continued until he could take it no more: being close to her; smelling her; watching her; hearing her sweet, sweet voice…and yet only touching her in the most formal, impersonal, "respectable" of manners!

And then… the flowers at night.. the dreams…

Waking up filled with her scent; her name on his lips….

Erik was, quite honestly, at the end of his strength.

He could bear it no longer.

There she was, tantalizing in another rosy dress, this one somehow more swishy and tempting than the first, although the difference was subtle.

That smile again! "Why don't you come join me, Er..."

She was cut off as Erik dashed out, grabbed her from behind, and swept her back into the passage, which closed immediately behind them.

"Erik, what the he..."

Her body was crushed tight against his as his lips crashed down on hers in a fierce, searing kiss.

When he let her go, her eyes were half lidded, pupils huge, something swirling in the azure depths. He could also detect utter bafflement—and something unidentifiable…at his nigh-animalistic behavior.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I tried warning you." Erik said in a half-growl, "I gave you a chance to get away… Joelle, for most of my considerably long life I've been "Demon", "Monster", "Ghost", "Devil-child", "Freak", "Beast", "Abomination". Part of that will always be with me, in one way or another. Can you live with that? He asked. "A dual nature: Man and Monster; can you bear it?" Again he fiercely took her mouth. She clung to him, reeling with ecstasy at the divine pleasure too long denied. Again he pulled her back.

"Can you live with THIS?" He tore off his mask, throwing it on the ground. Joelle could see him shaking.

The silence was deafening as she processed the sudden startling changes.

Erik apparently misinterpreted it, for his knees gave way and he tumbled to the ground in a sobbing heap.

"Joelle! Oh god, Joelle, if you forsake me now I am broken for-ever! If you leave me after this, I know I shall die! You were right, about the lies, the secrecy, the avoidance… I'm sorry… But you are my life and I shall die with-out you."

He bowed his head as if his doom was sealed already.

"Oh, Erik." Joelle knelt beside him and pulled him into her arms. "My dear, dear Erik. I've been trying so hard to win you back." She wiped away the tears on his cheeks—both sides—with her hands. "To me you are perfect. Did you know I went out and got drunk with a complete stranger just to try to stop missing you?"

"But…I hurt you…" His voice was small; childlike.

"Pff! I've gotten worse sparring with Raoul, and little Jammes in the ballet could fight better than him!"

He looked doubtful.

She sighed; "Erik, I loved you before I even really knew you: As a nameless hero, I idolized you; but as a man, I love you so much it hurts. Whatever I've done to drive you away, forgive me…being without you is killing me!" She buried her face in his shoulder.

His arms wound around her. "I was trying to save you." He said in a ragged, shaky voice

"Save me by holding me." She whispered, "I'll do whatever it takes to prove my love and put your mind at ease."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Candlelight glimmered in their eyes, along with a multitude of emotions as they stood face to face beside Erik's bed.

Erik could barely contain his love, desire, and anticipation for this woman, yet as he met her big blue eyes he saw a flash of something which might be fear. "You don't have to do this, Joelle." He said softly, taking in the silhouette of her slim body through the filmy slip she had stripped down to.

She blushed, "I..I want to, Erik. I am ready." She nodded, "I love you and I want to be with you forever. Starting now, we'll have a piece of each other that no one else can ever touch. This way, if Rojer…" She broke off, biting her lip, "Well, whatever happens, we have this…now, and I am yours. You will be my first, and hopefully only lover."

"If he touches you I'll…"

She laid her finger on his lips. "No more talk of these dark matters. All that exists now is you and I." Suddenly she blushed, "But… I'm not entirely sure how this progresses?"

"Nor am I." He admitted.

"Well I do believe we should be wearing considerably less clothing…"

He blushed, "I can't argue with that idea."

Shyly, she came closer and began to loose the buttons of his shirt.

Skin brushed against skin, lips locked as two figures danced an ancient dance.

And then it happened; a first for them both as he entered her.

Joelle whimpered as a rush of pain swept through her, then gave a little gasp as it was slowly replaced by pure pleasure, and then…blissful completion!

Stars exploded in their eyes as two became one. Love, safety, and belonging went from concepts to real, vivid things so clear that they could reach out and touch them.

In that fleeting moment before release, they both Knew. Knew for sure that they were where they had always belonged.

Knew that whatever had broken them in the past, it was insignificant next to the beautiful completion of this real, all-encompassing love.

They were mere mortals who touched upon a realm of heaven that few ever truly know—the absolution of True Love, devoid of any further doubts or fears, for now at least.

Their souls and bodies joined that night, and all memory of loneliness dissipated like the fog of night fading away in the face of the bright sun and gentle breeze of morning.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Erik looked down in wonder at the sleeping woman curled up against him, marveling once again at the change his life had taken.

So much now was different, and it all centered on this remarkable tiny, oddly vulnerable-looking woman.

He trailed a loving finger down her cheek, wondering that hands which had killed as an assassin, as the angel of death of Persia, fought for his life, and terrorized idiot Opera House managers had suddenly become so gentle, caressing a lover now instead of killing an enemy.

How sweet it had been, this…experience with her,

He'd been so shy and nervous at first; so insecure, feeling old and undesirable.

Yet her love had encouraged him, and soon he played her like a violin, eliciting the most remarkable sounds.

For the first time in his life, he smiled a smile of true contentment as he kissed one of the midnight curls that tumbled like a dark silken blanket over his naked skin.

Joelle gave a soft, happy little sigh in her sleep and snuggled closer to him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you want to know about me, Joelle? He asked.

"Everything.?

"It all began fifty years ago in a small Scandinavian village. My father was dead and my mother was alone. When I was born, I suppose I was a great disappointment, to say the least…"

* * *

"…..And when you came back a month later, for the first time, I wanted to Live again."

"Oh Erik…" She kissed him on the cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, Joelle." He whispered. "Sometimes I think I'm only alive when you hold me. Loving you is the best thing that I've ever done."

He sighed as her smooth, warm cheek rested against the cold, disfigured side of his face.

"You, Erik, are a remarkable man; more so than you know. Through all the ordeals life has put you through, you still retained your good heart. Yes, you compromised a few times, and sometimes made the wrong decision, but that's only human. You, dear, are a miracle." She said.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Papa!" A small, dark-haired boy ran and threw himself at Rojer.

"Rojolin." Rojer greeted with a small smile. "And how are you and your mother?"

"How come you never stay?" The three year old asked.

"You know I have business to attend to." He replied.

Rojolin nodded solemnly, "Oh yeah, you have to save the Lady." He remembered.

He grew up knowing all about the Lady.

His mother spoke of her with a sort of fearful awe, and with half-concealed loathing and envy.

His father spoke of her like a goddess.

Rojer himself had chosen Tanelle because of her resemblance to Joelle, renaming her when he took her from her father's ship off the coast of Spain.

"Soon, son, She will come home."


	16. Life, etcetera

To Live Again 16

I know it's been awhile, but I hope this chapter is worth the wait.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"This is folly, Rojer. You stole me from my family, renamed me, and sired a son on me and I gave no complaint. You haven't even had the decency to marry me and give our son legitimacy! Yet still I abide by your wishes. What does his Lady Joelle have that I do not?" Tanelle urged. "You keep me here in dishonor as a concubine and I have obeyed your will. Why must you have that woman?"

Rojer sighed, "How can I compare a nightingale to you, my Spanish sparrow? Or liken a lily to a common daisy? She has owned my heart since that first day, and I will have her or die trying. God made his masterpiece the day of her birth and tried in the years to come to produce a replica in you but the mold was already broken and could not be recast."

"I am younger, and will retain my beauty longer. And she is with a man already. How do you know she has not given him her virtue? You were my first—can you be so sure of the same with her?"

His hand struck her cheek hard and she fell, looking up at him from the ground through the curtain of her inky hair.

"Shrew! Do not tarnish her name in your ignorance! When I thought I lost her I sought a copy in you, but you, vulgar tart, have none of her sweetness. You will always be second." He growled. "Back to your work, wench, I'm going to take a bath."

"I cannot be second if she is dead." Tanelle mused once he had left, "Bring her here, then, Rojer. She will not last long. Her sons will not replace my Rojolin."

If there was one thing she knew, it was poison.

Her grandmother had been a gypsy stolen from her people.

Bitter since the death of her husband, the woman taught her granddaughters the secrets of her people.

Joelle would die, and Rojer would never suspect a thing.

Tanelle smiled brightly and went back to cooking dinner.

A moment later, Rojolin tugged at her skirts.

"Mama?"

"Yes, mon cher?"

"Is Papa home to stay?"

"Soon, my angel, very soon."

------------------------------------------------------------------

"'Morning, luv." Joelle murmured, trailing her fingers along his bare chest.

"Mmm… I could get used to this." Erik replied, cracking open an eye. "Your brother's going to kill me."

"Nay. He just wants me to be happy."

"Are you…happy?" he asked hoarsely.

Joelle gave him a lazy smile. "How could I be otherwise, my darling?"

"I love you."

"I love you, Erik." She kissed him.

He sighed, relieved, but something else, she knew, was troubling him.

"What's on your mind?"

"Much as I hate to bring it up, we never discussed…" He trailed off, hand moving unconsciously to the disfigured side of his face.

She caught his hand before he could cover his face and kissed it, then kissed the dead side of his face. "I see no problem, Erik. Besides, I love you for your heart, not your looks." She blushed, "Well, maybe your eyes had something to do with it, but only a bit… I love your eyes." She amended. "But even so, no nose just means nothing to get in the way when we kiss." Her eyes smoldered with a look that sent desire coursing like fire in his veins. "I think you're adorable, whatever anyone says. Forget what you might have been told in the past. You are perfect."

He pulled her close once more, burying his face in her hair. "God, Joelle, I love you so much."

"And I you." She breathed, knowing that this moment was so important. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of being back in his arms. Tears of happiness burned at her eyes and she squeezed them shut, not wanting to spoil this moment, but apparently Erik felt them on his skin, for he loosened his hold on her and looked down at her face.

"What's the matter, Ellie?" He asked tenderly, lifting her face to look into her eyes.

She sniffled, "Oh, I've missed you so much!" She cried, overcome by the turbulent emotions swirling inside. "Oh Erik, I can't lose you again!" She sobbed

"Shh, it's ok. It won't happen again, ever, I promise." He soothed, "I'll never doubt you again, I swear… Let's get married."

"Oh yes…What!"

"Well not _now_, obviously, but soon! Let's get married!"

"…My… brother…" It was a reluctant excuse, half-formed and half-hearted.

"After he gets back."

"Yes! Oh, god! YES!" She threw her arms around his neck,

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"Joelle. Joelle, wake up." Erik murmured.

"Nnngggg…" She swatted at his hand, "Sod off, Dom, I'm having the best dream about…" The voice registered in her mind and she jumped, eyes wide open. "ERIK!"

He arched an eyebrow, infinitely amused, "Dreaming about me, darling?" He purred, smirking.

"If you got any smugger, I think you'd explode." She muttered. "And I'm allowed to: We're engaged."

He chuckled, "Indeed, dear." He placated.

Joelle blushed, rolling her eyes. "What time is it, anyway?"

"That's…ah…actually why I've awakened you. I think we might me might have gone a bit overboard last night."

"Last night?" She gaped, "Is it already tomorrow? I mean, today? Is today tomorrow?"

"It's ten thirty A.M."

"Oh." She sighed, "Will you come back with me, Erik? I want to tell Papa, and I want you to be with me when I do." She smiled, "You know, my carriage has probably left without me by now."

His lips curled up at the corners, "I daresay."

"Haral's gonna kill you."

"I'd like to see him try."

She laughed, "Some things never change."

"And some do so too quickly." He murmured, "We can ride back on Cesar when we're both ready."

She nodded, slipping out from under the sheets. Smiling, she pretended to be unaware that he was watching her dress and did so extra slowly.

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"We have to go in sooner or later, Erik." Joelle reminded him gently as they stood before the doors to the manor. The "normal face" mask was harder to read than his normal face, but she knew him well enough by now to gauge his moods.

"I know," he replied uneasily, "But everything is different now; can't you feel it? We've both changed—will they even recognize us anymore?"

"Don't worry, we're together now; what have we to fear?" She squeezed his hand and opened the door, and entered the manor, giving a delighted exclamation when she saw who awaited in the parlor, "Oh hell! Raoul, Christine! What are you two doing here?"

"We…ah… came to check on you…see how you were doing." Christine attempted.

There was an awkward silence as Raoul and Christine stared at Joelle and Erik, and the latter two realized how it must look: Joelle's hair was wild and undone and her dress was rumpled and wrinkled, missing a couple buttons from a more passionate and spur-of-the-moment coupling in the hayloft. Erik had a piece of hay in his hair.

Joelle turned and removed the offending hay, blushing, them murmured, "Erik, honey, I'm going to go change. Raoul—be nice. Christine, we'll talk later!" She ran off, clinging to the tattered shreds of her composure.

Erik gulped, looking at the curious expression on Christine's face and the openly hostile one on Raoul's. "I… I can explain."

"I very much hope so." Raoul responded in cold, clipped tones, "I hope you can give me a satisfactory explanation why first you hurt my cousin and then return her in such a state of dishabille. The only honorable thing you can do now is marry her, because if you planned on just leaving her after this, I'll kill you. She doesn't deserve that."

"We are getting married." Erik replied, "After Dom and Colette return."

"You're lucky I don't completely hate you." Raoul let up a bit, "I just need to stay mad a bit longer—I can't believe how you treated her. I trusted you with her, Erik, in spite of all you've done to me and mine; I thought Joelle was safe with you." Erik noticed that Raoul's hands were shaking, "God...even with all that, I just have to ask—Why, Erik? Why would you do that to her?"

Erik took a deep breath, "Raoul, I don't blame you for being angry. I hate myself for every second of pain I've caused her. But try to understand, He sighed, trying to stabilize himself and keep from losing everything he'd gained. "I've been alone my whole life. Betrayal, pain, loneliness—these things are nothing new to me. But love of the sort I have from her is entirely new to me. I'm old, I'm paranoid, and I'm terrified of being alone again. I doubted her, I doubted our love, the truest thing I've ever known… I'd rather die than hurt her again, though. Hearing the pain in her voice… seeing her crying…knowing it was my fault…I hate myself; that's nothing new, but I love her. And though it may not be the best idea, she loves me. I've decided to stop trying to resist her. I'd as soon be able to stop the tides. It's only hurting us both. Whatever you may believe, I do love her, and I would do anything for her."

Raoul let out a frustrated noise, "I just don't know what to think anymore! It was so much easier back when I hated you—there wasn't all this conflict, certainly! I wish I could hate you, but I called you friend once, too, and we were like brothers then. I've grown too close."

Erik sighed, placing his hand at his temple as he felt a headache coming on, "Hate me if you like, Raoul: I'm used to it. Feel what you wish—I shan't judge you for it." Even Raoul could hear the strain in Erik's voice as he continued, "I'm so tired of it all… the hate, the anger, the violence, the blood… I'm just… tired. All I want is a normal, peaceful life with my love. I just want to find the everyday miracles normal men take for granted. And somehow Joelle, my sweet Joelle, can look past all the bloodstains and broken edges and bring me that inner quiet that has so long eluded me." He looked over at Christine, who wasn't sure what to think, "I'm sorry, Christine. With you, there was always some illusion to maintain, something to prove. All my Joelle asks of me is myself, flawed though I am."

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Joelle couldn't help it.

She just couldn't.

As soon as she closed the door to her room, she fell to her knees—

And laughed her head off.

Thinking of the past few weeks, the pain, the games, the joy, the wild abandon of her lover's embrace, all culminating in a rumpled moment before her cousins all mussed and still glowing from admittedly terrific sex. And they still didn't even know all that had transpired!

It was hilarious!

Of course, she thought with a second of sobriety, Raoul is probably about to eviscerate Erik this very minute, but for some reason that presently eluded her, she found even that completely comical.

It was a few moments before she could calm down enough to wash and change, and fix her hair, but even then a twinkle remained dancing in her azure eyes as brightly as a summer sky.

"I'M IN LOVE!" She yelled impulsively, not hearing her bedroom door open.

"I'm in LOVE! I'M GETTING MARRIED TO THE MAN I LOVE!"

"Oh my god!" A familiar voice squeaked, "I'm so happy for you!"

"Colette!" Joelle exclaimed as the two women ran to embrace.

"When did you two get back?" Joelle finally asked.

"Just now." Colette chirped, "Your cousin's glaring daggers at your Erik, Christine's looking half happy, half baffled and my poor Dom was carrying luggage when we walked in on a rather interesting scene and is currently hopping around on one foot screaming some expletives he probably shouldn't be saying in front of poor Christine(I'm surprised you didn't hear him up here!) . But I had to come up and see you! I've always wanted a sister and now I have one and oh, I'm so happy, Joelle!"

"And hyper, apparently." Joelle said more sedately, eyes alight with amused affection. "How are you, Colette?"

"Pregnant!" Colette replied happily.

"Reeallllyy?" Joelle smirked (A habit she'd picked up from Erik) "So is Christine." She said.

'And possibly me after all those times Erik and I…' The thought trailed off silently.

The thought of carrying Erik's child made her feel all warm inside. 'I've always been so sadly resigned to an unhappy future with Rojer looming like a nightmare over my life. But now, suddenly I so look forward to forever waking up each morning beside the man I love. Sharing every day with Erik…' She sighed happily.

"We should go downstairs now." She said softly, hearing a quiet serenity in her voice which had never been there before.

'Like Mama.'

Colette sighed enviously, "Oh, Joelle, you're glowing—you're so pretty!"

Joelle smiled contentedly, "You know," She said thoughtfully, "I've been called pretty all of my life—even beautiful, but I never believed it. I even felt quite ugly, and the nuns encouraged that feeling. But now, when I'm with Erik… he makes me feel like a goddess—pretty."

"I'm happy for you, Sis." Colette replied genuinely.

Joelle drew her mother's necklace off and removed a ring from the chain, where it had been hiding right behind the locket. Erik had made it while she was sleeping and given it to her right before they left his house. It was a simple silver band with a small, heart shaped diamond at the center. Arranged around the heart were smaller, delicate emeralds shaped like leaves.

Colette gasped as Joelle put it on her finger.

"Might as well put it on now." Joelle said happily. "And you're the first to see it."

"Oh, I've never seen anything so lovely!" Colette gasped, "And it suits you so well!"

Joelle nodded, "He made it for me. He said the heart made of diamond represented the purity and endurance of our love, and the leaves symbolized our future of growth and life together. Green is for all things new and sweet."

"Oh, I'm going to cry!" Colette wailed, "That's too romantic!" After a moment she gave Joelle a teasing, slightly crazy grin. "I want lots of nieces and nephews!"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

As they walked downstairs, Joelle restrained a sigh at the sight that greeted them:

Dom had his arm slung companionably around Erik's shoulder and chatted animatedly to him about his honeymoon while steadfastly ignoring Raoul, who looked hurt and upset.

'Regardless of how much he changes, my brother, whom I've always admired, cannot let go of the past and give our cousin a chance.' She thought.

Joelle displayed her disapproval at her brother's behavior by going to her cousin before even acknowledging Dom.

She hugged Raoul and kissed his cheek, resting one hand gently and soothingly on his other cheek as she leaned close to whisper in his ear.

"Raoul, I know that you aren't happy right now, but please try to understand that I love Erik and that he makes me happy. I know you're trying to look out for me, and I appreciate it, but I trust him. Can you please try to forgive?"

Raoul sighed wearily, "Only for you."

"Thank you." Joelle saw the pain in his eyes as he looked at Erik and Dom and understood: Erik had what Raoul had always wanted, and never had—Dom's unconditional respect and acceptance as family.

She sighed and caught his eyes again, "He'll come around, hon, just be patient."

Raoul gave her a rueful smile, "Ever you were more mother than cousin to me, Ella. Your children will be lucky to have such a mother."

She smiled and ruffled his hair, "Someone had to look out for you. Now chin up; I have some happy news to tell."

As she went to hug Christine, Joelle slipped Raoul's hand into his wife's.

"He made a good choice in you, Christine. Ignore the self-righteous old biddies in our family who say otherwise and never try to fit their mold. I only ask that you look out for Raoul when no one else can." She whispered, "And welcome to the family."

She gave Dom a glowing smile as she walked over and slipped her hand into Erik's.

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When Dom saw the dark-haired woman descend the stairs with his wife, he had to blink a few times to be sure it wasn't his mother.

Joelle had taken on her poise, her serenity.

He saw her instinctively move to ease the heart of their cousin and remove the lingering nerves from Christine.

He saw the way Erik's posture completely relaxed as he took Joelle's hand.

Joelle's eyes glistened like stars and, like their mother, she seemed to have a natural calming aura reminiscent of an old mother-earth goddess.

"Good god." He breathed, taking in the change in her, "When did my baby sister turn into a Lady?"

"I've missed you, too, Dom." She replied softly, embracing him. "Welcome home."

Dom sighed, knowing that now was the best time to break the news. "Not my home, Joelle."

"What?"

"I know as the son I'm supposed to inherit the manor, but my heart just isn't here anymore, Joelle." He explained, "Since Mama died, this place is full of ghosts. I can't bear all the loss that echoes in these old stones. But under your hands, it flourishes, Joelle. I spoke to father before I left on the honeymoon. Our allotments have been switched. I've bought the estate bordering ours; Briar Meadows. I want to star anew in a place not stained with my mother's blood. I know you love this place and will do what is best for our people and to preserve our birthplace. The people adore you, and when father dies, you will be Duchess." He smiled, "Father's advisors agree; you can breathe new life into the duchy."

Joelle blinked, taking a moment to think. "I…am touched by your trust in me, Dom, and I wish you the best in all you endeavor. But if you want me to be Lady, you have to accept the man I choose as my Lord." She slipped back into Erik's arms.

"I've asked her to marry me." Erik said.

"And I've accepted." Joelle confirmed, "I love him and I'll marry him no matter what, but it would help to have the approval of the ones I love."

"You certainly have my approval." Came a weary voice from the hall.

Joelle turned to smile at her father. "Thank you, Papa."

"Just know this, son," Lyle said to Erik, "She is the most precious jewel I possess; her heart is as gentle as a summer's breeze, and you are now her main protector. Love her well and keep her safe and save this old man from worrying for his only little girl."

"You will never have to worry for her again." Erik replied solemnly, "I swear it."

Lyle smiled at his daughter and her fiancé a moment more before exiting, "She'd have been so proud of you, Joelle… We both are… You're her living image."

"I will never shame her memory, Papa." She whispered to his retreating form.

There was a long silence, broken finally by Dom's troubled voice. "I have the feeling he won't be with us much longer, Ellie." He said, feeling the incomprehensible fear like that of a small child who finds out his father is only a mortal man, and not as invincible as he once thought.

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"I know, Dommie, but he's been dying on the inside every day since Mama died. Let's not begrudge him the happiness he seeks in returning to her… They were two matched souls. I think we both know he lost most of him the second she breathed her last. What remains is only here to see us safely to our own soul-mates… He wants us to be happy, but he wants to be free."

"I'm not ready to let go…"

"I know, but we have to."

"When did you become so wise?"

She gave him a bittersweet smile, "Time changes all."

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As he lay beside Tanelle that night, Rojer found himself restless, unable to sleep. He tried to imagine the thick dark hair silkier, wavier, but the illusion faded quickly.

Rojer sighed sadly and slipped out of the room.

As he looked up at the sky from the solitude of the balcony, he let memories creep up from the carefully guarded cleaner portions of his mind.

_"Father, why did Mama leave?" His younger voice drifted up from long ago, a tiny boy with huge eyes and a larger nose._

_His father glared in disgust, "It's your fault!" His father had yelled._

That was the beginning of the beatings.

He remembered when Joelle had found out…

_He'd run there to escape… At eighteen, still it frightened him… Still his father got him…_

_He'd fallen to the ground in the garden, bleeding, crying._

_He'd never know what had brought her there that late at night, but he liked to think of it as destiny._

_She'd been only seven, little and barefoot in a pretty white nightgown._

_The shame had been nearly as awful as the pain, and he'd been so afraid that she'd see the flaw in him that his father must be all too aware of to hate him so_

"_What happened, Roj?" She'd asked gently, kneeling beside him._

_Resigned, he'd given a sigh and answered. "…My father…" _

_She'd hugged him and wiped the tears from his face with her little white hands, then helped him to stand, supporting him on his feet._

"_Come with me." She whispered._

"…_Where…?"_

"_Just trust me."_

_She'd taken him into his normal guest room; the one he always stayed in when he visited, and made him sit on the bed and wait for her. She returned quickly with water, bandages, and salves and cleaned and dressed his wounds with a skill exceeding her age. Her hands had been so gentle, so nimble._

_She'd settled him in and tucked him in._

"_Joelle, please, I couldn't bear it if…I mean, your parents and Dom…" He'd trailed off._

"_Sh, your secret's safe with me." She'd soothed, drying the fresh tears. "Rest now."_

"_Joelle?"_

"_Hmm?"_

"_Do you think my nose makes me ugly?"_

"_Of course not!" She'd replied, kissing him right above the start of his rather prominent nose. "You've grown up rather handsomely. Now go to sleep and I'll see you tomorrow."_

_And she'd slipped away like a graceful ghost in her lily white nightgown._

From that day on, he stopped fighting his growing attraction to the youngest Etienne; an attraction he'd previously considered so wrong.

For years after, until the old man finally died of an unfortunate "accident" Joelle had silently patched him up when his father bloodied him and told no one of his disgrace.

With one so lovely supporter, he'd gained confidence.

He had learned one thing from his parents, though: Women were flighty, indecisive creatures, and if a man would keep one, he must hold her like a vise and keep her in line.

"Papa?"

He turned, roused from his thoughts. "What are you doing up at this hour, Rojolin?"

"I had a bad dream, Papa—I thought you'd gone away!"

"Come here Rojo." He took his son into his lap.

"My birthday was last week, Papa." Rojolin said.

Rojer smiled, "Yes, son, I know. I brought presents back to you."

The boy's hopeful grey eyes looked up at him, "Yes, but may I ask one more thing, sir?"

Rojer pretended to think about it, "Well, you've been good, so I suppose so."

Rojolin looked down at his little hands, "Papa, could you please stay just one month longer?"

Rojer was surprised by the request. He'd always resolved not to be like his father, but here he was neglecting his only son. Although it meant being parted from Joelle and his plans longer, he decided to agree. "Of course. After all, it is your birthday."


End file.
